Our Darkest Hour
by Taipan Kiryu
Summary: G1. When an unprecedented event causes a radical alteration in the programming of every Transformer, the Autobots turn against everything they held sacred whilst the Decepticons stand as the only hope left for humanity.
1. Chapter 1

_I wasn't going to post this story until next year, but I had a gust of inspiration last week and I decided to write it now instead. Of course, I could have kept it and save it for some months, but my dear friend and beta reader iratepirate convinced me that I should post it asap, what the heck. I agree. Inspiration is something that should always be followed._

_So here it is, a story that has been tickling my mind for a couple of years now, and one that will be quite intense and full of surprises._

_I hope you will enjoy :o)_

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><p><strong>Our Darkest Hour<strong>

**Written by Taipan Kiryu**

Summary: G1. When an unprecedented event causes a radical alteration in the programming of every Transformer, the Autobots turn against everything they held sacred whilst the Decepticons stand as the only hope left for humanity.

Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro/Takara… you know the deal. I just happen to love these metal guys.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**Primus is a practical joker**

Primus was not one that had ever had sense of humour.

That's why when He experienced it for the first time in zillions of vorns of existence, He decided to go wild.

Maybe His self-imposed confinement had become too boring, the metallic walls surrounding His main console never so full of nothingness.

Or maybe He got tired of His creations battling a millenary war that did nothing but blur the lines as they reduced the Cybertronian population to a ridiculously low number.

Or perhaps He just wanted to submit Himself into stasis lock for another eternity or two.

Whatever it was, the result was the same.

Primus rotated the board.

And two monsters awakened.

One, to realize that the motors of his life had been only evilness and ambition.

He felt shame.

The other one, only to discover the claws he never knew he possessed.

And he felt pleased.

Both agreed on one thing, though.

They had been mistaken all their lives.

But that was about to change.

* * *

><p><em>Jasper, Nevada, <em>_4:07 pm PST._

The red ribbon moved graciously, teased by the calm wind of the afternoon. Vegetal life, hair and human garments moved as well, imitating the ribbon in the peaceful dance that anticipated the moment in which it would be cut in two to signal the opening of the 'Optimus Prime Park', one more of the many ways in which the humans had honoured their Cybertronian allies.

Optimus Prime stared at his white, motionless twin, unable to repress the slight tingle of embarrassment.

It was too much.

He had been leader of the Autobots for thousands of vorns, but amongst all the things he was certain about was the fact that glory didn't suit him. His relationship with the human race had evolved from respectful to friendly, but still it was too much for him to contemplate his own statue, made to honour him and to serve as a permanent reminder of the ties that bonded Autobots and humans after five years of permanent coexistence. It had all began with a common foe, but now humans and Autobots shared a common life.

Or at least that's what the mayor was saying in his speech. Optimus Prime felt guilty when he realized that he hadn't been fully listening to the human's words, but his lack of attention had other reasons than the mere fact that he had heard that kind of speech dozens of times before. He was more concerned about their current location. Standing in the open during a public event, surrounded by defenseless humans… just the kind of thing that Megatron would consider a target if he was in one of his sick, sadistic moods.

"… so it's with great joy and pride that I declare open 'The Optimus Prime Park', symbol of the friendship and understanding between humans and Autobots…"

A fast and discreet glance toward Prowl confirmed that the heavens remained quiet. The Aerialbots were guarding the area at the top of the near mountain formation and Skyfire would join them soon. His ground forces were also strategically spread through the small town, making any Decepticon attack an anticipated failure.

The logical conclusion was that there was no reason to feel worried, but still Optimus Prime was uneasy. He pinpointed the origin of the feeling to the slight buzz inside his frame. Usually, the Matrix of Leadership remained quiet in the compartment beneath his chest plates; he hardly noticed it was there, perhaps because it had already become one with him and it felt as any other part of his body. But on that Friday afternoon of red ribbons and wind, he was very aware of its presence. The Matrix was alive, and had chosen that precise moment to remind him of such fact.

But it wasn't the Matrix that worried him. The Matrix was not acting, but reacting to something else. Most likely a Decepticon threat, but Optimus Prime knew both the Matrix and his enemies enough and he could tell that it was something else. It sounded extraordinary, and in a way ridiculous, but it was as if the Matrix was reacting to something more distant than time and space, something making its way toward him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the already very familiar sound of applause. That was his cue, and worried or not, Optimus had to follow the protocol. He bent to one knee and extended his right hand, allowing the smiling middle aged man to shake his finger with what appeared to be honest enthusiasm. The Autobot leader waited, allowing the cameras to do their job and preserve the moment for the terrestrial history records. There were also propagandistic motives behind the act, as Optimus noticed when the mayor seemed more concerned about his pose than the event itself, but that was nothing that worried the Prime. He had other things on his mind.

"Mayor Wilson, I speak in the name of all the Autobots when I say how honoured we—"

That was when it happened.

The wind remained soft, the ribbon stayed resting on the pavement after serving its short purpose, the vegetal life and the dresses of the females continued dancing, the music reached its peak of intensity, the cameras never stopped flashing, the mayor kept his oversized smile…

But something had changed.

For the first time since it had been enclosed in his chest compartment, Optimus couldn't feel the force of goodness inside of him.

The Matrix had fallen silent.

* * *

><p><em>Mina Al-Ahmadi refinery, Kuwait, 4:07 pm PST.<em>

Megatron cast an angry glance over the refinery. Everything was working according to plan; the empty cubes produced by Soundwave were being immediately filled by his Decepticons, the local military resistance had been contained and crushed, the surviving human workers had been confined, there was no signal of Autobot interference…

Perhaps that was the reason for the Decepticon leader's disturbance; experience had taught him that there was no such thing as 'according to plan'. There was always the unexpected factor to consider, which usually showed itself in two shapes. One: under the accursed red insignia of the Autobots. And two…

"I would like to take the opportunity to express my congratulations, Megatron. It had been a while since your wise leadership guided us to a successful energy raid."

And two: his no less accursed Second in Command.

Megatron turned to Starscream and greeted him with the usual glare. There it was, the permanent disturbance, the one that reminded him constantly why 'according to plan' was nothing but foretold nonsense.

"Shouldn't you be supervising the energy collection, Starscream?" Megatron asked grimly. He was feeling very anxious already without his biggest curse shadowing his day.

Starscream smirked. "Why, but that's exactly what I'm doing, Megatron." The blasted Seeker waved his arm toward the scenery before them. "Our Decepticons are performing magnificently. I venture to say that this will be the most prolific energy raid we have had since our arrival on this pit of a planet."

"_My _Decepticons are performing the way I expect them to," Megatron growled; he couldn't tell why, but he was feeling more uneasy by the minute. "And if this raid proves to be as successful as you say, it certainly won't be because of your contribution, buffoon."

"Nor will it be because of your pitiful leadership," Starscream retorted, his smirk increasing. "Without the Autobots to present opposition, even a malfunctioning drone could have turned this mission into a successful raid. Or tell me, oh brave leader, do you have another reason why you chose precisely this oil refinery as our target, and precisely on the day when you knew the Autobots were going to attend a human celebration thousands of mechano-miles away from here?"

Starscream had a way with getting on Megatron's bad side even faster than Optimus Prime, but that day the task was turning out to be very easy, even for his standards. Megatron was definitely not in the mood. He felt like he was hovering over a never-ending abysm with his anti-gravitational system on the edge of failing. It wasn't a familiar sensation, but it was as uncomfortable as it was becoming annoying.

"What? Did a scraplet eat your vocalizer, _leader? _Or do you find the truth that unbearable?" Starscream pushed further. "You shouldn't feel so bad about it, Megatron. Regardless of whether your plan was motivated by cowardly reasons or not, our Energon reserves will be almost full when we finish here. So who cares if you avoided Optimus Prime the same way you love to avoid victory?"

Starscream kept talking, but suddenly Megatron couldn't hear him anymore, wasn't even aware of his presence. The annoyance surrounding him like a buzz had another source, one he couldn't see or hear; one he couldn't fight.

The Autobots were thousands of mechano-miles away indeed; they wouldn't arrive in time to stop the Decepticons from drying that refinery. But thousands of vorns of war had taught Megatron to feel the presence of an enemy without the need of radar. Not even the slightest bit of an energy signature was present, but Megatron knew it as clearly as if the alarms were sounding.

Something was approaching. And fast.

"… slag is the problem with you? Did your audio receptors stop functioning or something? I'm talking to you, Megatron! Acknowledge me! I knew age would finally get to your rusted processor eventually, but I didn't think it was going to be so soon!"

The annoying screech, the hateful face, the insufferable smirk… Instinct guided Megatron, more than fury, and suddenly he felt the familiar sting on the back of his hand as it impacted the face plates of his Second in Command. The hit was so brutal that it sent Starscream spiraling backward, making him hit a near cooling tower. The Seeker fell on his knees. Above him, the tower trembled.

And as the pavement started to crack, Megatron felt the newcomer finally making its entrance to his processor. The feeling was not a stranger, but he hadn't computed it in such a long time that it took him some astrokliks to recognize it.

_Guilt._

For one moment, he was a young miner again, his hands covered in the vital fluid of a dead mech, innocence snatched away from him in the most horrible and disgraceful way.

_No…. Nonono… What… what did I…_

From the ground, Starscream raised his head and turned to look at him. There was no hate in his optics, not even the expected desire for retaliation. There was only pain and confusion.

But Megatron was beyond those feelings. In that moment, only one prevailed.

_Guilt._

Megatron recognized it fully this time. It was there, staining his spark as clearly as he had stained his hands countless times with the blood of the ones he had appointed as his enemies.

His neck hurt when he forced it to rotate towards the dozens of terrorized humans that waited in fearful silence, confined inside a metallic cage like animals.

Animals that his Decepticons had deprived of their freedom, following his orders…

Guilt became a torture when he caught sight of the dead corpses that lay spread over the platform, soldiers and unlucky workers that had committed the mistake of standing between the Decepticons and the energy they already considered theirs.

They were innocents, and yet they had been murdered.

_He_ had murdered them.

Megatron bowed his head, the feeling of filthiness spreading through his systems faster than the cosmic rust that had invaded him once. The image of those deceased humans would remain in his processor as the permanent reminder of who he had been.

The tower kept trembling, signaling its imminent collapse. The humans screamed, realizing that it would fall on top of them.

More deaths… absolute carnage brought by his hand.

No more.

"Decepticons, save the humans!" Megatron heard himself ordering. He hadn't chosen the words, they came to him naturally. He knew that one minute earlier he would have never even considered saying anything like that, not even in the most acidic of irony. And yet, the words didn't feel foreign. It was as if his need for redemption had been there, dormant inside his processor for millions of years, waiting to be released.

And now he was free.

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime looked toward Prowl again. No alterations in the radars, no enemy energy signatures detected, no suspicious sightings…<p>

Everything remained the same, and yet it felt so new. He was kneeling, and he hated it. How many times had he knelt like that, courtesy or kindness guiding his actions, and how many times had he hated it?

Every single one of them. He was surprised that he had never been able to realize it before, when it was so clear now.

Optimus Prime was seeing for the first time in his life. His optics had opened, no barriers of fake morality blurring his vision.

"Uh… Mister Optimus Prime?"

He heard the voice beneath him but he didn't bother in looking at the human. He got to his feet and stared at his High Command, one by one, calmly regarding them with a stare that found nothing but acceptance.

The wind kept blowing, sending pleasant sensations to his metallic features. He turned to his left, to the white statue that mimicked his form. It looked a lot like him indeed, but of course he had noticed the not-so-small mistakes even before he had stopped caring about the wind and all the smiling faces surrounding him. The shape of the helm wasn't accurate, the chest plates were wider than his, the legs were very long, not proportioned with the rest of the body… One minute ago, he wouldn't have cared about any of those things. He would have noticed them but he would have disregarded them immediately and have only cared about the generosity behind that statue.

But now he could see. All the things that had remained invisible to his sight lay bare naked before him now.

And they annoyed him.

He looked at his troops again. Prowl was respectfully standing behind him, as well as Ironhide, ready to defend him from any Decepticon threat. Jazz was at his right, beside the stage, optic visor fixed on him. His ground forces were guarding the square, also looking at him, waiting… He could also feel the presence of the Aerialbots nearby, their attention turned from the skies to him. They were there, his soldiers, loyal as ever and ready to obey his command.

Then he looked at the humans; at the mayor and his wife, at the smiling people waving white flags with Autobot insignias, at the children wearing garments with his figure imprinted on them… They were all there, looking at him expectantly. He knew the protocol. He was supposed to speak, to continue his speech of demagogic gratitude.

But when he spoke, with his voice as calm and composed as ever, he addressed only his Autobots.

"Kill them all," he said in Cybertronian.

_To be continued._

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><p><em>As far as I know, Jasper, Nevada, is a fictional place. And yes, that was a blunt hint to Transformers Prime - but just that, a hint, because this fic will be one hundred percent G1. On the other hand, the refinery in Kuwait actually exists, but I didn't mention it with any second intentions, just as a location.<em>

_The mention of Megatron's past was taken from the IDW comic 'Megatron Origin', in which Megatron freaks out after killing a guard. The 'No… nonono…' line was actually taken from the comic._

_I will try to update this story as frequently as I can, but please be patient because I have other ongoing fics and I don't want to neglect them so much. _

_Please let me know your opinions. I highly value them and they provide a lot of inspiration for faster updates._


	2. A fortress of solitude

_Wow, thank you very much for the amazing reviews you left for the first chapter of this story. To be honest, I'm very excited with this fic, not to mention full of ideas, so if you guys want to keep reading, I'll make sure to keep feeding you._

_As some of you mentioned in your reviews and private messages, this plot opens doors to an endless number of possibilities. I have a good amount of them already decided, but I'm open to new ideas that may pop up as the story progresses. I hope you will enjoy. _

_Many thanks to my beta reader iratepirate, not only for correcting my grammar but for her advice and infinite patience._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**A fortress of solitude**

_Cueva de los Cristales, Chihuahua, México, __4:07 pm PST._

The middle aged man turned his gaze from left to right, uncertain of which of the two marvels before his eyes amazed him the most. Ever since he had started to research the Cave of the Crystals, he had come to the conclusion that he had seen everything, that nothing was left on this Earth to surprise his senses.

He had been technically correct, because the thing capturing his sight did not belong to this Earth.

Despite of the heavy suit covering him from crown to toes, the man managed to shake his head. Four years ago it had been officially established that the Autobots were not 'things', but alive, sentient beings, not to mention that they were also motivated by all the right reasons. In this case, the assistance of the massive robot was turning out to be beyond helpful, considering that it… _he_ wasn't affected by the cave's extreme temperature and humidity conditions.

He should have already been acquainted with the Autobot's presence, but still Doctor Rafael Esquivel flinched when the robot got to one knee and extended his immense hand toward him. The perfect metallic creature was so big that he could have used the 30 foot long selenite crystals of the cave as toothpicks…

"Doctor, if you may?" the Autobot said, his voice as gentile as his frame was massive.

"Y-yeah… Thank you, Doctor Skyfire."

_Doctor Skyfire _waited until the human sat on the palm of his hand before lifting it up. Despite the carefulness of the movement, the man seized a giant thumb with both of his arms as soon as the safety of the ground was left beneath. The Autobot smiled but didn't say anything to compromise the dignity of his charge.

The human doctor tried to forget about his fear to heights when he was lifted toward the midsection of the Autobot. After a deep click, the part of the chest that functioned as cockpit opened and the robot's cabin was revealed. Doctor Esquivel sighed when the familiar – and human – face welcomed him from inside. He had known Chip Chase for only a few months, but he had been aware ever since the beginning that he was in the presence of a boy genius, one that reminded him so much of himself almost three decades ago. Doctor Esquivel couldn't help but smile.

"Welcome to Skyfire, Doctor," Chip greeted him with an equally warm smile. "You can remove the helmet now."

The doctor chuckled slightly as he uncovered his face. He had been inside the cave for only four minutes, but his hair was already plastered over his forehead and some beads of sweat were making their way down his reddish cheeks.

"Chip, kids," he said to his assistant and his two young friends. Spike Witwicky and Carly Brooks-Spencer, if he remembered right. They were not only very close friends to Chip, but also two of the privileged humans that had been in constant touch with the Autobots since their arrival on Earth.

"Hello, Doctor," the pretty blonde girl said. "I hope you don't mind we sneaked in. We really wanted to have a closer look at these caves. They are amazing."

The doctor removed his glasses and started to clean the transparent veil of steam from them. "Not at all, young lady. I can understand your enthusiasm. I have been studying these caves for almost one year and they never cease to amaze me. We were very fortunate that the Autobots took so much interest in this project and provided their help. We will be forever thankful."

"Is this the first time you've seen an Autobot?" the older boy, Spike, asked.

"No… we have been working with Doctor Perceptor over the past few months. His contribution to the project has been invaluable."

The cabin was suddenly filled with the deep, yet kind laugh of the robot. "The same Perceptor that has been pummeling my commlink all day with petitions. You wouldn't believe the amount of samples he wants me to collect for him."

"What happened to doctor Perceptor? I thought he would be here today to explore the Ice Palace," the human doctor said, referring to the newest cave that had been discovered and that remained unexplored.

"Oh, and he would have loved to be here indeed," Chip explained, "but he was unable to free himself from the inauguration of the Optimus Prime Park that is being held in Jasper right now as we speak… But don't worry. He will catch up with us as soon as he can, provided that one of the Aerialbots gives him a ride."

"I still feel bad for not being there with the guys," Carly said. "Jazz said that the entire town was going to throw the party of the year."

Spike put one arm around her waist. "Don't worry, Carly. It's not an everyday thing that we have the chance to see something as amazing as these caves." The familiarity between them suggested a bond, perhaps of the romantic kind.

But the doctor wasn't really interested in anything involving his human companions. Once his heart started to beat frantically for something other than his unusual transportation, he dedicated all his attention to the sight outside the cabin.

The Autobot was moving carefully and slowly to avoid damaging the crystals, the perfect pace for the doctor to start making use of his video camera. He couldn't wait to arrive at their final destination and put his feet on the ground of the Ice Palace, but so far the sight from Doctor Skyfire's cockpit was proving to be captivating. As they got deeper and deeper in the cave, the artificial light coming from the robot started to illuminate the crystals, involving them in a dance of outstanding beauty.

"It's so beautiful…" he heard the voice of the metallic being all around him. It was true; if a robot of that size was able to appreciate the beauty of an organic world, it couldn't be considered less than sentient.

Doctor Esquivel smiled. Planet Earth was very fortunate to have the Autobots on its side, very fortunate indeed.

* * *

><p>It seemed like forever since Skyfire had lost the ability to notice when he was smiling. It had become his most natural gesture, ever since he had been assembled, the physical expression of the harmony he felt toward everything that surrounded him.<p>

His peace had been seriously threatened after waking up from a four million year stasis nap only to find out what war had done to the world he knew, but every time he filled his optics with sights such as the one before him now, he felt that hope was the one thing that he would never lose.

He rested his back against the natural wall behind him, being extremely careful not to compromise the integrity of the cave. It was a beautiful sight indeed, both the cave and his human friends exploring the insides of their planet as if they were doing it with a new world. Happiness was made of things like that, Skyfire knew well.

He remembered a similar sight, one that had brought him hope despite the roughness of his awakening… He remembered his bed of ice. He had woken up to the cold but also to a familiar face, one that once would have enjoyed the current view as much as he was doing right now… in another time, in another world… another Starscream too…

He noticed, however, when his smile faded. They were no use, memories… His world had rotated in the blink of an optic and there was nothing he could do to change that.

"Are there places like this on your planet, doctor Skyfire?" the human doctor asked him, moving awkwardly because of his protective suit.

"Not on mine or on any other I have seen, doctor Esquivel," he replied, almost sighing. "And trust me, I have explored many planets… but I have never found the mineral world revealed with so much beauty as it happens in these caves."

"As beautiful as they are deadly," the human said. "Without your help, it would have taken months to reach this cave."

"It's the least I can do, doctor. As a long time scientist, I'm the one who feels grateful for the honour you granted me when you invited me to be part of this project."

Carly approached from the right with a tray full of small samples of crystals. She moved quite gracefully considering that her suit was bigger than her size.

"Are these okay, Skyfire?" she asked. "I don't mind if you say no. I could stay here all day."

Skyfire chuckled. "It wouldn't be the best for your organic systems, even considering the protection of your suit."

"Protection?" Spike said, laboriously pushing Chip's wheelchair. "I feel everything but protected in this suit… We look like astronauts."

"And that's precisely what we are," Chip said, enthusiastic as always, "astronauts on our own planet. We may not be sailing the stars as the book says, but we are literally exploring another world. Oh, could you do me a big favour, Skyfire? Can you please comm Perceptor? There are some things I want to ask him about the samples we are collecting."

Skyfire clicked the button on his helm but he got no response. No bad reception, no static, nothing.

He tried again, but he obtained the same result. "Mm, this is weird… I can't contact any Autobot frequency."

"Maybe the temperature and humidity conditions jammed your commlink somehow?" Chip said.

Skyfire's face became serious as he performed a fast scan on his systems. "It's more than that… Apparently, the conditions of the cave combined with the composition of the crystals blocked some functions of my neural processor."

"That sounds serious," Spike said.

Carly moved closer to him. "Are you okay, Skyfire?" Despite the suit, Skyfire could feel the worry on her features.

"Yes, there's nothing to worry about," he said calmly. "Some segments of my brain module stopped functioning, but none related to my main circuits, my cerebral activity or my motion abilities."

His words didn't seem to cause any tranquilizing effect on the human doctor, who looked at him with concern. "Forgive me for insisting, doctor Skyfire, but are you sure that these malfunctions you mention do not endanger you? I don't want to sound selfish, but please remember that you are our only way out of this cave."

"I'm completely sure, and please don't call yourself selfish. Your safety and that of my human friends is also my priority. It is true that some parts of my processor are temporarily non-operational, but the problem doesn't affect my performance at all. Aside from the failure in my comm link, the only serious disruption happened in my personality component."

"Uh… is that the thing that defines your character?" Spike asked.

"In a way, yes. The personality component of every Cybertronian regulates the patterns of thoughts, feelings and behaviour."

"Like it happens with a human's personality," Spike said.

"Yes, but unlike it happens with you, our personality component can be programmed. On ancient Cybertron, the citizens were created with a pre-defined programming. That way, our elders made sure that our planet would never lack of workers, scientists, soldiers, politicians, and so on, each one of them with the personality component fitting for their function."

"That sounds pretty fascistic to me… and not so different to the way human societies used to work, and somehow keep working," Carly observed.

Skyfire nodded. "I agree. I was actually against the system, although I would have never taken things to the level the Decepticons did when they started the war…" It felt odd to talk about a war he had never seen erupting, but it was part of his history. As much as he would have liked to ignore it, he could not do it.

"But if you say that your personality component got damaged…" Chip said, as always returning to the point that mattered. "Does that mean that you lack of your personality right now, that maybe you can't access your code of behaviour? I would find that hard that to believe… I think you are behaving like you always do."

"That's because the damage was not severe, and not permanent, I dare to say. The only thing that happened was that my personality component got blocked; specifically, the part which regulates my morals and ethics. That doesn't affect my thought patterns or behaviour at all."

"In other words, you're stuck being the nice guy you have always been," Carly smiled to him. "Not such a bad thing, I would say."

Skyfire only grinned.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, the whitish sight of the Crystal Caves had changed to the more common green, brown and blue of the terrestrial surface; more common, but no less beautiful. The animated chat between Chip, Carly and Spike inside Skyfire's cabin only contributed to making the flight even more enjoyable. Peace was so beautiful, even if it was fleeting. On days like that, it was hard to believe that war existed.<p>

Skyfire had been so distracted talking to his human friends and being lulled by the sky surrounding him, that it wasn't until he had almost entered the Oregon aerial space that he noticed that his systems were one hundred percent functional again.

And he wasn't the only one who noticed it.

"Your commlink is back on line," Chip said, looking at the green light on Skyfire's main console. "I suppose your personality component is also fully functional again."

"Yes, it is, although I still have doubts about my commlink…"

"Why? What happened?"

Skyfire didn't reply to Chip immediately. He tried to access an Autobot frequency for the third time but he couldn't reach any of them. This time, however, the response was static.

"There has to be something still malfunctioning. I'm not getting any response from Perceptor, or from any other Autobot for the matter."

"Perhaps they got a little over-energized at the celebration in Jasper," Spike suggested, smirking.

Skyfire laughed softly, despite the possibility being on the bottom of his list. He was about to try Wheeljack's frequency when two dots started to blink on his radar.

"What's that? Decepticons?" Spike asked, immediately losing his good humour.

Skyfire analyzed the energy signatures before answering relieved. "No… they are Aerialbots, Fireflight and Slingshot."

Carly frowned slightly at the blue space outside Skyfire. Despite the dots on the radar, there was still no visual of the Aerialbots. "That's weird. Why would the Autobots fly all the way over here to meet us?"

"Maybe there are Decepticons in the area," Chip said.

All questions were meant to be answered when Skyfire's commlink finally beeped into life and Slingshot's voice made itself heard.

"_Hey Skyfire! Where the slag were you and what took you so long? You missed a hell of a party!"_

Skyfire had never been fond of the Aerialbots, particularly of Slingshot. He had always been too rough-mouthed for Skyfire's taste.

"I was in the Crystal Caves, as all of you already knew… Are you aware or Perceptor's location? I have been trying to comm him for almost fifteen breems regarding the samples he requested but I haven't been able to reach him."

Slingshot's laughter reverberated through Skyfire's console, more mocking than ever.

"_Samples? Ha, now this is a slaggin' coincidence! Last time I saw Perceptor he was doing that, collecting samples! He's still in Jasper, unless he finished with his business and moved to somewhere else. You know, you scientist slaggers never rest."_

More than his words, there was something in Slingshot's tone that made Skyfire feel very uncomfortable.

"Samples?" Chip asked, somewhat uneasy. "What kind of samples?"

For a moment, there was only silence on the other side of the line. _"Say, Skyfire, are you carrying humans in your cabin?"_

"Yes. I reported to Optimus that I would be taking Chip, Carly and Spike to the Crystal Caves with me. Why do you ask that?"

"_Oooh, Optimus will like to see them again…. He will like it a lot."_

A distant figure was already visible when Slingshot finished speaking. Skyfire recognized Fireflight's erratic flight pattern almost immediately.

"_Hey _Chip," Slingshot continued, emphasizing the boy's name with obvious mockery. _"Do you know what kind of samples Perceptor was collecting?"_

There was no time for a reply. Fireflight perhaps wasn't the best flier, but he was fast. Skyfire had to make an abrupt maneuver to avoid being impacted by the youngest of the Aerialbots.

"Be careful, Fireflight!" he said, alarmed.

The Aerialbot laughed stupidly through the commlink. _"Sorry… I'll try not to miss next time."_

When he charged again, Skyfire managed to avoid not only the collision but the attack of Slingshot's twin mortar cannons. Skyfire shut off his commlink immediately.

"What's going on?" Chip asked. "Why are the Aerialbots attacking us?"

"I don't know, but we are not staying to find out," Skyfire said, trying to keep his voice composed as he increased his speed.

"Those are not the Aerialbots," Spike said, very certain of what he was saying. "It must be a Decepticon trick. They have impersonated the Autobots before."

Skyfire didn't feel like breaking the young human's blind faith in his Cybertronian friends by telling him that the identification of both Slingshot and Fireflight's energy signatures left no place for a mistake.

"We will have to leave confirmations for later. Your safety is the main priority right now. Tighten your belts, my friends. I'm initiating evasive maneuvers."

Of course, it was easier saying it than actually doing it. Skyfire had six very powerful engines, but he hadn't been built to be fast or agile. His chances of losing the Aerialbots were minimal, if not completely inexistent.

Still, he had his human charges to protect, and that single motivation provided a very potent seventh engine. After dodging another attack from Slingshot, he headed towards a mountain formation, very aware of the Aerialbots' weaknesses. Fireflight was considerably faster than his teammate, but he was also a specialist in accidental collisions. As for Slingshot, he was too restless to give any chance to caution; that made the mountains Skyfire's current best friends, and only probable saviours.

"Hold on!" he said before tuning sideways and going between two mountains. As predicted, Fireflight was on his tail, but Skyfire lost him by returning to his original position and quickly altering his course. Fireflight was not able to follow and grazed his wing against a rock formation instead.

The distance gained between his pursuer gave Skyfire no relief, though. He was much more concerned about Slingshot, who had disappeared from sight and from radar detection, certainly having cloaked his energy signature.

Suddenly, pain came, but it wasn't the burning sensation on his underbelly that shocked Skyfire the most, but the expressions of fear on the faces of the three humans. He knew it was more than fear; it was the horror of being attacked by friends. Skyfire was feeling the very same thing.

"We got hit!" Spike cried, holding Carly in his arms, although the girl looked more disappointed than scared.

"Don't worry, the damage is minimal," Skyfire tried to tranquilize them, although his navigational systems had started to fail.

He barely had had time to stabilize his flight pattern when Fireflight made himself visible again, preceded by two missiles. Skyfire didn't hesitate to shoot, although he targeted only the missiles. Despite the fact that Fireflight was attacking him, he was a fellow Autobot and seriously damaging him was out of the question.

The missiles exploded, giving Skyfire a short but priceless moment of confusion in which he changed his flight pattern again and headed toward a natural bridge made of stone which separated two mountains. The space below the bridge was not too big, but enough for his dimensions, as he rapidly calculated. His calculations also included Fireflight's maneuverability and speed.

The result was the same as his mental equation. Fireflight hit one side of the mountain with his left wing, and completely lost control. His landing was not graceful, but not life threatening, also just as Skyfire had predicted.

Now he could focus all his attention on Slingshot…

Right on cue, the Aerialbot spiraled down from above, shooting randomly towards the same bot he had talked so friendly to that very same morning, and that now had become his target.

"Ooooh, the ole under the bridge trick, huh?" the Aerialbot said, no longer using his commlink but his vocalizer. "Nice move, big guy, but Fireflight would have crashed even if he was flying solo. See if you can do the same with me!"

Reckless and impulsive, but Slingshot was a remarkable flier. There was no way that Skyfire could fight him without using deadly force.

"I demand an immediate cease of hostilities, Slingshot!" Skyfire said, opening his commlink again. "What is the meaning of this senseless attack?"

Slingshot laughed. _"The meaning, you say? Well, to be honest with you, I really don't know… We just got tired, you know? It's funnier this way."_

"_Funnier…?_ Where is Silverbolt? He will be informed about this!"

"_He's busy right now, but don't worry, he will join us soon, with the rest of my team. Wanna play tag in the meantime?"_

Another attack from the Aerialbot's mortar cannons impacted Skyfire's right plating. If it weren't for his endurance, the bigger jet would have headed toward an imminent crash.

"Stop this madness! There are humans in my cabin!"

"_Aaw, there are humans in my cabin," _Slingshot parodied. _"Buddy, that's exactly why I'm doing this! Why don't you get rid of them and then maybe you and I can have a real conversation, huh? You're one of us after all, right?"_

"He can't be serious," Carly said, her face paler than ever. "What happened to the Aerialbots?"

"This has gone too far, Slingshot!" Skyfire yelled. "I demand an explanation right now!"

"_Oh, so Mister I Love Humans wants an explanation? Tell you what, big guy. Take me down and you'll get it, but if I take you down first… well, I don't think deactivated bots are able to listen, don't you agree?"_

Another accurate shot and the damage on Skyfire's right plating became worse. One of his engines failed and a cloud of black smoke started to accompany his descent.

Skyfire made up his mind. Fighting was against his nature but he had precious human lives to protect. He activated his targeting system and aimed toward Slingshot – hopefully, the Aerialbot wouldn't take fatal damage…

Two heat-seeking missiles departed for their objective, but Slingshot was faster. In a movement that totally startled Skyfire, the Aerialbot dodged the attack and did a barrel roll, managing to end up behind Skyfire and, thus, with all the advantage.

"_Not fast enough, ole craft! See how you like taking your own missiles up the afterburners!"_

Skyfire realized too late that the Aerialbot was literally menacing with the truth. He maneuvered abruptly to try to avoid the missiles, but it was too late. Their trajectory had been fixed on him and they would only stop when they hit their target.

As the distance between him and the missiles became shorter and shorter, Skyfire allowed himself to do a final calculation, only to realize that total termination was more than a possibility. But maybe, only maybe, his death wouldn't be in vain. If he could get the explosion to reach Slingshot too, the Aerialbot would be temporarily incapacitated…

He did a quick turn and started to descend as fast as his damaged engines allowed him.

"S-Skyfire… what…" Spike babbled.

"Prepare to be ejected in five astro seconds," he said flatly. "Make sure to direct your parachutes towards that clearing and use the commlinks Prowl gave you to contact Optimus Prime. He will send help as soon as he knows what happened."

Carly's eyes opened in horror, realizing that he was going to sacrifice himself for them.

"No! Skyfire, don't—"

He ejected the three seats, praying to Primus that his human friends would reach safety. Then he altered his flight course again, finding comfort in the fact that both the missiles and Slingshot followed only him.

The heat of the missiles started to scorch his afterburners, but right when he was expecting the fatal impact, something else broke that virtual line of death and attracted the missiles with its own heat.

"_What the—"_ he heard Slingshot saying.

Two accurate energy bolts silenced the Aerialbot, taking him down at the same time.

Skyfire decreased his speed, guided not by his wounds but by the recognition of what had saved him.

_Null rays…_

The familiar name got stuck in his vocalizer even before he saw the red, white and blue jet that destroyed the missiles chasing him with the same ease he had shot down Slingshot.

Skyfire managed to stabilize himself and transformed in mid air. "Starscream…?" he said, beyond confused.

Starscream transformed too, hands on hips and a smile that Skyfire hadn't seen in more than four million years.

"That was close," the Seeker said almost casually. "I'm very glad to see you alive, Skyfire."

"But what—" Skyfire started to force his vocalizer to function, but a beep from Starscream's commlink interrupted him.

"_Starscream, the two Aerialbots are down," _the voice of one of the Conehead Seekers said.

"Are they functional?" Starscream asked.

"_Yeah, but one of them is in stasis lock. Do you want us to take them prisoners?"_

"No, those are not our orders. Rendezvous with Dirge and return to base."

"_You got it. Thrust out."_

Skyfire had barely paid attention to what Starscream and Thrust had said; he had his own priorities. "The humans! What happened to them?" he cried, looking anxiously towards the direction he had ejected his small friends.

"Don't worry, they are safe. Dirge intercepted them."

That didn't tranquilize him. Dirge intercepting his friends was not precisely what Skyfire considered safe.

However, he turned to his former partner again. "Starscream… what is this all about? I… I just…"

Starscream raised his hands in a tranquilizing way. "Explanations are on the way, my friend, but not now. To tell you the truth, I'm in need of some of them myself... But in the meantime, you need to calm down. You have gone through a lot, not to mention that you are seriously injured. Can you keep flying?"

"Y-yes…"

"Excellent. Come with me."

"Come with you…? Where to?"

"To the Nemesis, of course. It's the only safe place for us right now."

Skyfire was more certain than ever that he was inside some bizarre fantasy. Not only had his Aerialbot friends tried to kill him, but Starscream, the Starscream he had known, all positivity and energy and blunt honesty, was floating right before him…

"But… what about the humans?"

"They are coming with us too. They are going to need our protection."

Skyfire had to make sure. He _had_ to make sure.

"_Our?"_ he repeated cautiously.

"Yeah, the Decepticons' protection."

Now Skyfire had heard it all.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>The Crystal Caves are real and utterly fascinating. Ever since I watched a documentary about them a while ago, I thought they would be the perfect place to isolate Skyfire and protect him from Primus' idea of a joke.<em>

_And I don't offer Energon cookies to anyone who noticed the huge blink to Transformers Prime, otherwise I would get ruined :oP If any of you hasn't seen the series, don't worry if you didn't get it. Raf Esquivel was just a name I borrowed and I did it for two good reasons. One, just because I wanted to blink at TFP, and two, if you guys have had contact with me through mail, you'll know what I mean. _

_Okay, if you paid attention to the hours stated at the beginning of each scene – including chapter one, of course – the three events narrated happened at exactly the same time. Later, we have two hours until Skyfire got attacked by the Aerialbots and saved by Starscream… yeah, that was surreal, wasn't it? Anyway, there are two hours there in which I'm sure you want to know what the Autobots and Decepticons did in their respective locations, and I don't plan to keep you blank about that. During next chapter we will take a little trip to the immediate past and see what happened. I'm pretty inspired with this story right now, so you guys can count with fast updates._

_Please let me know your opinions. They are always very inspiring :o)_


	3. Vice versa in six parts

_Okay, I promised a fast update and here you have it. I hope you are ready to take a little trip to the immediate past and see how the Autobots and the Decepticons reacted to their programming glitch. _

_This chapter was inspired by one of best songs of the past century. If you feel like listening to the song whilst reading, please be my guest._

_Hint about the song? It's divided in six parts… and it goes something like this: Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, Figaro! I wasn't even born when this song was released, but fortunately legends are meant to remain and influence the generations to come._

_Many thanks to iratepirate for beta reading._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**Vice versa in six parts**

_Introduction_

Time seemed to stop; one single, stubborn gust of wind kept teasing the females' dresses, the colorful pieces of paper, the fiber on the human's heads, the vegetation… The red ribbon was the first one to return the world to its continuous movement, finishing its dance on the right leg of the Autobot Jazz.

Jazz focused his optical sensors on the slender piece of red textile tangled around his servo. Like the rest of his comrades in arms, he had heard Optimus Prime's command.

It hadn't shocked him.

The air had turned warm, peaceful. As much as Jazz was a bot of action, he had never despised tranquility, the place in which he could hear his thoughts as clearly as a musical tune. When he found Optimus' stare again, he realized that the past seemed so, so far away, even more distant than the days in which war was an impossible fantasy.

Optimus' orders had never been difficult to obey. Really, the boss bot carried authority better than he carried his laser rifle. And speaking of that, Jazz noticed that his photon rifle was in his hand, as shiny as the oldie he had been playing all morning.

"_Is this the real life?" _Queen sang through Jazz's speakers as the smiling robot raised his right arm nonchalantly, the Bohemian Rhapsody seeming to stretch in space and time as all organic eyes and cybernetic optics turned towards him.

Jazz had always loved being the center of attention; it came natural with his easy going nature.

His light and sound show came to life with abrupt, high decibels.

Such a cool song indeed, made to be played loud… And yet, Queen's _'Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…'_ was eclipsed by the total absence of regret when Jazz's photon rifle vomited without any hesitation.

But God saved the Queen in the end; the music didn't stop, not even for a moment, not even when the rest of the Autobots started to fire their weapons on the human crowd and the world became a burning, viscous red.

_Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter…_

* * *

><p><em>Ballad<em>

Megatron had never been the kind of leader that gave an order he wasn't willing to carry out himself. Every time he sent his soldiers to face death, he was always the first one on the frontline.

Loyal to his ways, he was the first to put his own back against the cooling tower, not caring about the concrete creaking against his shoulders. As he felt the weak material giving up behind him, he had a fleeting moment to ponder the words he just had said. Foreign a moment ago, and yet now they seemed so natural, so authentic. It was during that small flash of realization in which he wondered if his Decepticons would follow him, if they would obey his command of salvation as loyally as they would have obeyed one of destruction.

His doubts were vanquished as abruptly as his former confusion when the sun was momentarily obscured by a very familiar shape. Megatron felt, more than saw, the two blue hands frantically impacting the concrete beside his head. But it was Starscream's face that surprised Megatron the most. He hadn't seen that face since the day a young, infatuated Seeker kneeled before him to pledge his eternal loyalty.

The back of his right hand stung, a painful reminder of the last action guided by his rage and blindness.

"Starscream," he said quietly.

The dark features of the Seeker were full of reassurance. He nodded to his leader, in both understanding and devotion. History was not repeating itself, it was being rewritten.

Megatron turned to his left, looking for his most loyal lieutenant. Soundwave stared back in absolute immobility and silence before raising his right arm and clicking the button on his shoulder.

"Laserbeak, Buzzaw, eject. Operation: restoration."

The two robotic condors ejected immediately, heading towards the cooling tower and starting to repair the fissures with their heat rays. After that, the rest of the Decepticons awakened from what felt like a nightmare that had lasted long enough.

Life had just begun.

* * *

><p><em>Guitar solo<em>

Raoul had his eyes closed, but he could catch a glimpse of the golden sunrays through his eyelids. If there was something better than taking a nap whilst waiting for the dusk to arrive, it was doing it with his best friend.

The days in which they chased car thieves for the first time were not long gone, but for both the young human man and the Cybertronian robot it was as if they had known each other forever, no matter if Raoul was barely beyond twenty and Tracks was more than four million years of age.

"Mmh?" Raoul asked, yawning and removing the bandana from his eyes. "Did you say something?"

"Indeed I did," Tracks replied through his console. "I said that it's after 4 PM. Isn't your lunch break supposed to end at that hour?"

"At two, actually…" Raoul said lazily as he adjusted the bandana around his forehead. "But I'm not going back to work today… or tomorrow."

"And I suspect that applies to the following days also. What happened?"

"I don't like it there. My boss picked on me again."

Tracks seemed to sigh. "What was it this time?"

"He said my hair is too long, and that I should have it cut."

"Well, it is long."

The young man frowned at the console. "Yeah, and what's wrong with that? I'm the best mechanic in the workshop, and I'd still be with my hair short. My _former _boss should mind his own business."

"This is the second job you've left in less than a month," Tracks stated, his voice more sympathetic than scolding.

"Well, I'll get another one. You know me, I like freedom. Besides, it's not like I'm back on the streets, right? I just hate to be locked up in a single place for eight hours straight, you know what I mean."

Raoul knew that his friend understood what he meant. Tracks wasn't much of a team player himself and preferred to be on his own rather than with the rest of the Autobots. They both were loners, free souls that didn't like to be told what to do.

"Hey, why don't we go for a flight?" the young man suggested. If there was anything he loved to do more than riding with Tracks it was flying with Tracks.

"Right now? I don't like what the sun does to my finish."

"And yet you're here, in the horrible, horrible sun," Raoul said, laughing. "Come on, Tracks. I'll give you a wash when we're done. I have a can of the best wax with your name written on it in my backpack, ya know?"

Tracks was weak for wax, as Raoul knew perfectly well. He had never met anybody else – human or robot – who cared for his appearance more than his Autobot friend. Raoul didn't blame him, though; if he were a Corvette, he would be the same.

"What kind of wax?" Tracks asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but Raoul knew him better.

"One hundred percent dirt repellent, man. Just as you like it."

"Mm, I don't know… I'm supposed to guard the outskirts of Jasper in case the Decepticons show up. That's the only way I could get away from that boring park inauguration."

"Oh, come on! It will only take a couple of minutes… five tops. What do you say?"

Tracks didn't reply. Raoul was about to continue his attempts at convincing his friend when he felt a soft hum coming from the Corvette's board. Or perhaps it was the engine… Raoul had been Tracks' passenger dozens of times, but he had never felt a vibration of such sort.

"Heh, I didn't know you came with a massage service," he said, winking. "You'd be quite a success with the ladies, ya know?"

Tracks remained silent. The hum didn't last long, but when it finished, the most absolute silence had taken over. For a moment, Raoul thought that Tracks had shut off somehow.

"Tracks?" he asked cautiously.

It took some more weird seconds to get a reply. "You know…" Tracks said with his composed, elegant voice. "I think we should indeed take that flight."

Before Raoul could say anything to express his enthusiasm, Tracks' motor came to life and his wings emerged from his sides.

Raoul found the takeoff a little rough, or maybe it was only because he wasn't using the seatbelt. Tracks started to gain more and more altitude, something rare because he usually liked to fly close to the ground – for cosmetic reasons, as he had explained more than once.

"Whoa, easy man," Raoul said, laughing, when the highway beneath them started to look like it was made for toy cars. "It's not very easy to breathe up here."

Tracks stopped ascending and maintained a straight course. "Raoul?" he asked.

"What?" the young man replied, frowning a little. The cold tone with which Tracks addressed him made him feel a little uneasy.

The driver's door snapped open.

"I never liked your hair."

And then Tracks veered ninety degrees to his left side.

Raoul didn't have time to realize what had happened. The steering wheel before his hands and the seat under his body suddenly were no more. As he fell towards the distant ground at what felt like supersonic speed and his throat closed, he had one second to see Tracks flying away, the Sun glinting on his left door as it closed.

Then he didn't see anything else at all.

* * *

><p><em>Opera<em>

"O-kay, everybody out! You're free!"

Skywarp removed the metallic grid that he had used as an improvised cage, accidentally hitting one of the humans and throwing him to the ground.

"Oops, sorry," he laughed stupidly, picking up the human with two of his fingers. "My bad. Are you okay, flesh bag?"

When the man stared at his captor with a face so pale that it rivaled the Seeker's white features, Skywarp slapped his own forehead with one hand and placed the human on the ground with the other. "I meant fleshling. No! Human vermin. No! Sorry, sorry! What's the, erm, you know, correct name to call you? Like… politically correct?"

The human fell on his aft and dragged himself backwards, joining the terrorized group of humans. "Hey, I said you could leave," Skywarp insisted. "All of you!"

When the humans didn't move a mechano inch, Skywarp turned to Thundercracker, who was standing right beside him and was looking at the humans.

"What's wrong with them, TC? Can't they understand me? Wait… I did talk to them in their language, right?" Skywarp said, doing a quick check of his memory banks.

"You did, but I don't think that's the problem."

Skywarp scratched his head. "Uh?"

Thundercracker gave Skywarp his best I'm-speaking-with-a-two-breem-old-moron glare. It had become so common over the vorns that Skywarp didn't mind anymore.

"We captured these humans less than one breem ago," Thundercracker said with evident tedium. "We also killed their companions. Don't expect them to react otherwise."

"Umm," Skywarp cast a glance around him. With the cooling tower already under control, the rest of the Decepticons were taking care of the additional damage to the oil refinery. Megatron and Starscream were talking at the center of the platform, but Skywarp couldn't hear what they were saying. "So what now? Megatron told us to see to these humans' safety, but I'm not sure what we're supposed to do."

"There's not much we can do after everything we did on our arrival," Thundercracker said before addressing the humans in their language again. "You are free to go. Human authorities are on their way. Wait for them at the entrance of the refinery. If you need urgent medical assistance, we will take you to the closest facility."

As it always happened with humans, nobody moved until one of them dared to take the first step. After that, the rest followed in a frantic stampede. Thundercracker moved backwards when one human slipped and fell very close to his foot.

"Look at them," Skywarp said, staring at the small crowd running away from them. "That one is losing a lot of fuel… But I bet you they would prefer to die than allow any of us to fly them to their repair bay."

"As I said, our past actions don't give us any credibility."

"Guess so… But I wouldn't mind flying them, you know, poor flesh bags… Heh, but you must be one happy fragger, aren't you TC? You always kinda liked humans."

"I didn't like them. I just pitied them."

"Well, you can pity them all you want now and nobody will hold it against you."

"It would appear so," Thundercracker said absent-mindedly, his optics never leaving the fleeing humans.

"Uh… TC?"

"What?"

"Does this mean that I also have to let go the humans I have stocked back at the base? You know, the ones I was going to tie to Ramjet's thrusters during his recharge cycle?"

Thundercracker didn't even bother replying to that.

* * *

><p><em>Heavy metal <em>

Optimus Prime rarely allowed himself the luxury of satisfaction.

But that was precisely what he was feeling as he watched his Autobots functioning like clockwork: satisfaction.

The screams had disturbed him in the beginning, but his soldiers made sure to silence them rapidly and effectively. After millions of years of war, he was very used to noise, but he preferred tranquility. He would always prefer tranquility.

Curiously, the smell of smoke and blood that snuck through his face mask and arrived at his olfactory sensors didn't disturb him.

He turned to his right and faced Prowl. Respectful as always, the Second in Command waited for his cue to speak.

"The Protectobots, Tracks and Seaspray are on their way to the Ark."

Optimus Prime nodded slightly. "What about Skyfire?"

"We've been unable to communicate with him. His last known location was at coordinates 27°51′3″N 105°29′47″W. He was carrying out scientific research of some sort there."

"I know. He informed me about it," Optimus said as he looked at Inferno setting fire to a mountain of human corpses. "Do we have any word on the Decepticons?"

"Not yet, but Cosmos has the Nemesis under surveillance. Do you want me to send the Aerialbots for a closer inspection?"

Optimus scowled under his mask when he saw Gears removing something that looked like the remains of a human child from Warpath's rims. He wouldn't allow any disgusting organic remains to contaminate his Ark, not even the ones Perceptor was collecting so dedicatedly.

"No. I need the Aerialbots here. For now, we'll just keep an eye on Megatron. Tell Cosmos that I want a thorough report of everything that comes in and out of the Nemesis."

"As you command."

"Do you already have Blaster's report?"

"Yes. His analysis indicates that no word of what happened here has reached the exterior. We isolated the town as you ordered."

Optimus Prime nodded. "Good."

"Blaster is also elaborating an official report that will be delivered to the human authorities. Without any witnesses and considering the nature of the attack, it will be easy to put the blame on the Decepticons."

"Make sure to leave no survivors, Prowl. Send the Aerialbots to devastate a radius of fifteen mechano miles around the town, and tell Cosmos to double check that no terrestrial satellite caught any image of what happened here."

"With all due respect, I already anticipated your orders."

A muffled sound beneath him made Optimus look down. The human Mayor, only survivor of a town of 2752 official inhabitants a few minutes ago, shivered in a puddle of his own filth at the feet of Optimus Prime's statue.

"Matters of greater importance didn't allow me to thank you for your hospitality before, Mayor, but rejoice at the thought that the disposal of your town served for a bigger purpose. This was just the beginning of a rebirth that is far beyond your understanding."

Optimus nodded to Prowl and the Second in Command immediately fired a mild plasma beam at the terrified human. Mild, but enough to turn the Mayor into a small pile of carbonized flesh. In contrast to his cries and protests at the beginning of the attack, he died without a scream.

Optimus Prime turned to Prowl again, having already forgotten about the Mayor. "Spike, Chip and Carly. Keep comming Skyfire and order him to bring them to me. If still you don't have a response, tell Silverbolt to send two Aerialbots to retrieve them."

Prowl nodded, his coldness steaming against the fire already devouring the city.

When everything ended, only the statue of Optimus Prime remained standing.

* * *

><p><em>Outro<em>

"They won't trust us," Starscream said, watching the small group of human workers running away from Skywarp and Thundercracker. "This is just an example of what will happen if you decide to come clean with the humans. That, if they don't destroy you first."

"It's not the human factor that worries me," Megatron said seriously.

Starscream understood. There was one word that Megatron had in his processor more than any other.

"Prime," he stated.

Megatron nodded. "We don't know what happened to the Autobots. Whatever it was that generated a change so radical in our programming must have also affected them."

Starscream folded his arms across his chest. "And you fear that, as happened to us, they ended up quite… reversed of the Autobots we used to know."

Megatron didn't reply immediately. He looked upwards, for once appreciating the blue of the skies. "There's no way to tell how much damage the Autobots can do to this planet if they decide to attack it. Our forces won't be able to stop them."

Starscream snorted. "They may outnumber us, but the Autobots are no soldiers. One Decepticon is far better than three of them. If Prime strikes, we will defeat him."

"The Autobots _were _not soldiers," Megatron said, turning to look at his Second in Command. "But they are now, Starscream. We made them. If Prime is thinking the way I fear he is, he will devastate Earth and we won't be able to save it."

"Not likely. Prime would never—"

"I pushed him too far, Starscream!" Megatron spat, regret once again darkening his features. "If Prime targets Earth, he will go beyond my limits. I never attacked random terrestrial locations, ever less killed humans without what I thought was a valid reason. Prime's rage may lead him to a massacre beyond our worst. We don't have enough soldiers to protect every single location on this planet, and Prime will certainly take advantage of that."

Starscream pondered what Megatron had said, and for a moment seemed taken aback. He was no stranger to fear, but he was beginning to experience the horror of being on the other side of the line. "If that happens… What are we going to do, Megatron?" he asked, needing the guidance of his leader more than ever.

But Megatron gave him more than that. They knew each other too well to not recognize reassurance, even if it had been absent in practically their entire relationship. "Avoiding panic would be a good start. We have to find out what happened to us and why it happened, but first I need to know what the Autobots are up to. Take Dirge and Thrust and fly to the Ark's perimeter. We need to have an approximation of Prime's current movements. Make sure to stay out of radar detection."

"As you wish, but I will do better if I go alone."

"Negative. You would be in great danger if the Autobots discover you. Avoid engaging them as much as you can, but if you are attacked make sure not to use deadly force. I'm not looking to start hostilities at this point."

Starscream nodded. If he was surprised by Megatron's sudden concern about him, he didn't show it. Or perhaps it was just one of the many things that, as impossible as they may have seemed, felt so natural now.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>All hail Freddie Mercury…<em>

_And so we end our little trip to the past. Now that we have clear that the Autobots and the Decepticons are really acting very different from their usual ways, the possibilities are endless. I hope you will enjoy what I have in mind._

_Next update is already in progress. Many, really, many thanks for your reviews. You guys are the best._


	4. Welcome to the Nemesis

_Many, but really many thanks for welcoming this story so warmly. Your support and encouragement are pure fuel that keeps me typing the keyboard. I'm aware that right now there are many things going on at this beginning of the fic, so I'm doing my best to post frequent updates to keep the story flowing. Despite the fact that I'm going to focus mainly on Megatron and Optimus Prime, there are many other characters that will play very important roles. I plan to give each one of them the time and pacing they deserve, so please be patient if you don't see any of the main characters for a couple of chapters. Everything has a purpose._

_Okay, let's proceed with the chapter then. Some of you asked about Raoul. Well, we will know what happened to him during the first scene of this story. _

_Chapter beta read by iratepirate. Many thanks, sis, for your help with my grammar and your always wise advice.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

**Welcome to the Nemesis**

Onslaught acknowledged the rerouting of his priorities with the same coldness he acknowledged absolutely everything else. Actually, as he kept driving through the mountain landscape, his first action was the one he had scheduled for that precise hour and minute anyway: check the location of Blast Off on his radar.

Once he made sure that Blast Off was positioned exactly where he wanted him to be, Onslaught addressed the second presence, the one that, as always, had been a little too enthusiastic and had abandoned stealth.

"_Frag," _he heard Vortex through his comm link, but it was the sound of the rotors approaching that made the helicopter's proximity clear.

"_Frag, slag, fraggin' slag!" _Vortex complained again. If Onslaught hadn't known perfectly well that something unusual was going on, he would have noticed it by his teammate's flight pattern. Vortex was problematic and maniacal, but he _never _flew erratically, not even when over energized.

The 'copter was silent for the next two miles, although certainly he kept cursing to himself and at whatever had happened to his programming. He had always had problems adapting to change. When the Combaticons had been subdued and locked in the Detention Centre, it had been Vortex who had the worst time dealing with it. Onslaught was sure that the thousands of vorns spent inside that castrating box had finished turning the helicopter insane.

Onslaught braked when he arrived at the road. He scanned what was lying ahead of him, transforming to his bipedal mode as he did so.

"What's that?" he heard Vortex saying above him, his voice tense as he transformed as well and landed heavily on his two feet.

Onslaught pointed toward the broken, stained pavement. "Not your doing, I presume."

In the past, Vortex had kidnapped humans and let them fall from very high altitudes just for fun, but Onslaught was sure that the puddle of blood, flesh and bones at his feet was not the trademark of his teammate, as much as it seemed to be.

"Nope," Vortex said, getting on one knee and scanning the corpse. "Definitely not."

"Blast Off," Onslaught said, activating his comm link and looking upwards, as if he could catch any glimpse of the culprit. "Do you have any readings of an aircraft at these coordinates during the past few breems?"

As he sent the coordinates to the space shuttle, Onslaught looked at Vortex again. He was carefully analyzing the dead human, looking more curious than anything else. One breem earlier, he would have certainly mocked the find.

"_Autobot flier," _Blast Off responded after some seconds. _"The readings he left are not enough to state his identity. Not an Aerialbot, though."_

Some Autobots carried jet packs to get airborne, but they definitely preferred to stay on the ground. Considering the data that Blast Off gave him about the mysterious flier, it was easy for Onslaught to make his choice.

"It must have been Tracks," he said, changing the channel of his comm link. "Swindle, do you have any visual of the human settlement?"

A tank arrived from the other side of the road, zigzagging to avoid hitting two trees that were in his way.

"Who the slag did this?" Brawl asked as he transformed and joined Vortex before the human remains.

"Not me!" Vortex said, looking offended.

"_You're not going to believe this," _Swindle's voice sounded through Onslaught's comm link.

"Don't be surprised if I do," Onslaught said calmly. "Report."

"_The town is under attack… Autobot attack. Frag, I can barely see anything because of the fire and the smoke… Wait, I'll get closer."_

"Negative. Record a video file and rendezvous with us immediately. You are not to engage," Onslaught hurried to order before addressing Blast Off again. "Blast Off, approach Swindle's position and give him cover in case he needs it."

"_No need to bother the big guy. I'm not that close… Besides, the Autobots are very busy with their business and I don't think they will notice me… Frag, it's a slagging massacre down there!"_

"Forget about the video file. Return immediately."

"_Just gimme a minute and—" _

"I told you to return immediately, Swindle. That's an order!"

That tone had left no place for discussions, nor to doubt the fact that Onslaught was worried about Swindle.

"_Why would the Autobots do that?" _Blast Off said through the comm link. _"Maybe Swindle is overreacting?"_

"I think not," Brawl said, pointing towards the distant mountain. "Look."

A thick cloud of black smoke had started to stain the clarity of the sky. Dark omens turned into facts, the kind that urged Onslaught to act immediately. He and his team had been sent to the outskirts of Jasper, Nevada, to watch the Autobots' movements and create a distraction in case Prime and his troops received word of the energy raid the Decepticons were undertaking at that same moment.

Onslaught was a soldier. Even though he despised Megatron, he had followed every one of his orders since the Combaticons had been readmitted into the Decepticon ranks, if their forced loyalty could be called that. Onslaught and his team had been efficient even in those cases in which he had been sure that Megatron had targeted their pride more than he had targeted the Autobots. However, he had obeyed, motivated more by his calculated patience than Megatron's dominance over them. He had felt the sting of rebellion many times, of course, but he couldn't recall any other mission in which he had felt as compelled to disobey as the current one. He was feeling more and more tempted to engage the Autobots, but for a very different reason than Megatron's orders.

It wasn't difficult to make up his mind. "We're sticking to the strategy. Take your positions," he said, keeping his comm link open so both Swindle and Blast Off could also hear him. "Blast Off, stay outside the atmosphere and assist Vortex. Brawl and I will cover you from the ground. Swindle, strike and retreat. More than ever, we need speed."

"_You got it, boss."_

Onslaught nodded. If felt strange. Every reason behind his orders didn't belong to who he had been, but still he was convinced of what he was about to do. He didn't need to take a peek at the Gestalt bond to know that his teammates fully supported him.

That's why he didn't hesitate when he spoke again. "We are to avoid human casualties by all means. Blast Off, locate the closest medical facility and be prepared. You may be required to transport an undetermined number of injured humans."

Brawl patted the anti-aircraft gun protruding from his back. "Let's blast some Autobots to the Pit, then!"

Onslaught transformed to alt mode, followed by Vortex and Brawl. Jasper was some miles away, but they would be there in no time.

They had barely advanced some mechano meters when the Combaticons general channel opened and Swindle's voice could be heard again.

"_Um, guys?"_

"What, frag it, what?" Brawl spat. "Unless you're in trouble, you better clear the frequency."

The most deadly military unit of the Decepticon army had certainly never heard that tone of voice when Swindle spoke again. _"You know… that time when I sold you as scrap? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."_

That was a dark episode in Combaticon history that none of them wanted to remember, but the apology was taken and accepted. It had been sincere, after all.

* * *

><p>Skyfire stood still on the platform and stared at the black hole beneath that looked more like a gigantic mouth eager to devour him than the launching tower of the Nemesis base. Maybe there was no difference at all.<p>

He had always been aware that he was naïve. As a matter of fact, his current companion had made sure to remind him of that fact ever since they had met, sometimes with more irony than others. He felt the stare of his former student and friend fixed on his back and he turned around cautiously, somehow expecting to find two arm-mounted rifles pointing at his face.

But he only met Starscream's amicable expression again, not a single trace of the mocking, cunning features he had got used to seeing in his ex partner since Skyfire had been reactivated. Despite the urgency of the situation, he couldn't help to admit that he had missed that expression. It had been so hard to face Starscream after what had happened between them at the Arctic, so much that Skyfire had done everything he could to avoid unpleasant encounters.

"I know it's very difficult for you," Starscream told him, "but I'm asking you to trust me, Skyfire."

Trust was not the problem. Skyfire had trusted in him before, and even when war and factions hadn't been between them, it had always been Skyfire the one who had ended up with the smallest stick.

Maybe he shouldn't have followed Starscream to the Nemesis before making sure of the situation… Slingshot and Fireflight had attacked him indeed, but maybe the Decepticons had tricked them to do so, controlling them somehow. Maybe it was another of Megatron's filthy schemes. If only he hadn't rushed in following Starscream, believing for a moment that he had recovered his best friend…

Starscream must have noticed his confusion because he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "The disruption that happened in our personality component altered us drastically. If the Autobots went through a similar process, it would be easy to suggest that they turned violent. You are not safe on your own."

Skyfire hadn't been with the Autobots for long, hence it would have been difficult to say that he had established deep bonds with them. Still, the memory of the Aerialbots attacking him was proving to be as painful as it was disturbing. The Autobots he knew, the ones who valued life and freedom more than anything, would have never attacked him without a reason.

"However, the disruption didn't affect me," Skyfire said, trying to make his voice sound cold.

Starscream frowned slightly. "There must be a reason for that."

Skyfire sighed. "There is. When I was in the Crystal Caves—"

A _'Get your hands off him!'_ scream coming from beneath interrupted Skyfire, activating every one of his alarms. He didn't have to think about it anymore; Decepticon trick or not, his human friends were in danger. That's all the motivation he needed to jump, disregarding the elevator and firing his way inside the launching tower. He heard Starscream shouting something behind him but Skyfire didn't care. It was a trick, it had been a trick all along…

His suspicions were confirmed when he found his three friends cornered by one of the Conehead Seekers, Dirge.

The Decepticon looked over his shoulder, but he didn't finish the movement. Skyfire was faster and had him pinned to the wall in an astroklik.

"Hey, relax!" the blue Conehead said. "I was just trying to pick up the human with wheels to take him inside. I wasn't going to hurt him!"

"There's no way you're going to take him anywhere, Deceptiscum!" Spike cried, standing in front of Chip in some sort of defensive position.

"I see that the Autobots taught you well, human," a raspy voice said from behind Skyfire. "But if you cared to regard the past few minutes with the same passion you insult us with, you may realize that Dirge saved your life."

That was nothing but the truth, as impossible as it seemed. Skyfire released his prey and turned around. Starscream was entering through the hole at the bottom of the tower, carrying his usual self-confidence and the tranquillizing effect that he had always caused in Skyfire – before the Arctic incident, of course.

"Are you okay, Skyfire?" Chip said, rolling his wheelchair towards his Autobot friend. Spike and Carly followed him.

Skyfire nodded, ashamed by his recent violent outburst. "Yes, thanks to Starscream."

Spike frowned and looked at the Decepticon Air Commander, who watched the scene with his usual smug look, only that this time he seemed more motivated by curiosity than by irony.

"What do you want from us, you evil maniac?" Spike said, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists.

"Nothing but your safety," Starscream replied, seeming to find the insult amusing. "I give you my word that we don't have any intentions to harm any of you."

"Yeah right, as if your word means something…"

Carly closed her hand around Spike's arm. "We don't know what's going on, Spike, but it's true that Dirge saved us and Skyfire says that Starscream helped him too. I think we should at least listen to what they have to say."

"You are one intelligent human," Starscream said, smiling at Carly. Then he turned towards Skyfire again. "Now, if you don't mind, we should proceed to the Command Centre. Megatron is not expecting us to return with company, but I'm sure he will be very interested to see all of you."

Skyfire nodded in silence. What else could he do, but try not to break the thin ice on which he was standing again? He wouldn't have been surprised if his systems rebooted only to show him that he had been buried for another four million years on some distant planet.

* * *

><p>Unlike most of the Autobots, Skyfire had no hate for the Decepticons. He knew they were evil, twisted in their ways, but he had done his best to keep dark feelings away from him when facing them on the battlefield, even – especially – in the case of Starscream.<p>

But there was one exception to the rule. Much to his dismay, he had been overpowered by the instant dislike he had felt towards the Decepticon Supreme Commander since the moment he had met him. It would have been so easy to say that he hated him… Such a shameful, unworthy feeling for a scientist who prided himself on his high ethics and morale values.

The feeling tingled uncomfortably within him as he caught sight of Megatron standing with Soundwave before what had to be the Nemesis' main computer. The big screen displayed a series of coordinates, their greenish hue partially illuminating the hard features of the one mech who had started the war that had killed thousands of Cybertronians.

Megatron chose that precise moment to look over his shoulder. For the expression on his face, Skyfire could tell he was surprised to see him and his human friends, although the Decepticon didn't look displeased. He also looked worried, but somehow Skyfire knew that his arrival wasn't the cause.

"I see you found some interesting acquaintances, Starscream."

Starscream advanced to meet his leader. "You could say that, Megatron. I was keeping an optic on the Ark as you ordered when I found two Aerialbots attacking Skyfire in the area. I had to intervene."

Megatron nodded and looked at Skyfire suspiciously. "So you were attacked by your own brethren… Are you aware of the event that led us to this situation, Skyfire?"

Skyfire shook his head, still overwhelmed by his dislike and fear of the Decepticon leader. "All I know is what Starscream told me. He said that your personality components were altered by a force of unknown nature."

"A force that must have affected the Autobots as well, considering the way the Aerialbots attacked you… I wonder why you were not affected. Or is there another way in which I should interpret your presence here, Autobot?"

Skyfire tensed, once again having the certainty that he had been guided directly into a trap. Perhaps naïve was an understatement of what he really was, still very new and inexperienced regarding war…

Megatron looked at Starscream, their optics locking with perfect complicity.

"Starscream, kill the humans."

Skyfire fidgeted, feeling the immediate acceleration in the heart rates of his organic friends. It was a trap indeed, it had been a trap since the very beginning…

But fear and disappointment didn't prevent him from following his primary instinct. He grabbed his rifle and pointed it from Megatron to Starscream. His practically absent fighting spirit told him that the battle was lost; he wouldn't be able to defeat four Decepticons, especially not in their base, but he had to try. The life of his human charges depended on him…

Starscream stepped forward, hands lifted in a peaceful gesture. "Relax. Megatron was not talking seriously."

Skyfire frowned. His patience was enormous but not infinite. "What's the meaning of this? Did you bring me here only to mock me, Starscream? What kind of sick joke is this?"

"I was never known to joke in the past, and I'm certainly not looking to start now," Megatron said. "Please accept my apologies, Skyfire, but I had to make sure."

Skyfire was very close to pointing his weapon at Megatron's head and firing. "Make sure of what?"

"We don't know what happened to our personality components, but one thing I'm certain about is that it altered our ethics… reversed them somehow. It was clear to me that you care about terrestrial creatures. It was because of them, after all, that you deserted our ranks to join the Autobots. I knew that, in the case that you were pretending, you wouldn't have had any problem with the idea of Starscream killing those humans. But your first reaction proved me wrong."

"I may have proved you wrong, but you haven't done the same thing for me, Megatron. How can I know that you are speaking the truth? Ordering Starscream to kill my human friends was not a good way to prove your good intentions."

"My order was not real, nor would Starscream have followed it. But you are right. You demand proof and I'm afraid I can't give you anything other than my word, which I assume doesn't mean much to you."

"Your assumption is correct."

Skyfire knew that he was playing with fire talking to Megatron like that, but he had no other choice.

"I may have something else to show you," Megatron said before looking at Chip, Carly and Spike. "Dirge, take the humans to the Refueling Room until the Constructicons build proper accommodations for them. There's something I need to discuss with Skyfire."

"No way!" Spike hurried to say. "We're not going anywhere without Skyfire! Is that what this is all about, Megatron? Are we your prisoners now?"

Megatron chuckled slightly, seeming to find the suggestion ridiculous. "Nothing more distant than the truth, human. Consider yourselves our guests, as absurd as you may find the idea. I don't intend to separate you from your guardian, but I understand you went through a very stressful moment and I want to spare you from the uncomfortable truth that is about to be revealed. Believe it or not, I'm very concerned about your welfare."

"Yeah, yeah… Starscream said the same thing," Spike insisted. "But we're not buying it. What is it that you are hiding from us?"

Carly stepped forward cautiously and looked at the imposing Decepticon leader. Her fear was evident, but also her resolution. "Whatever you have to say to Skyfire, please let us hear it too. Our own friends tried to kill us… We deserve to know what's going on."

Megatron stared at the human female for some very tense moments. Then he turned to the computer. "As you wish. You would have found out anyway."

Megatron punched a button on the console and the face of the Combaticon team leader appeared on the big screen.

"Onslaught, repeat your report."

Onslaught noticed the newcomers, but that didn't seem to trouble him. "The settlement known as Jasper, Nevada, has been obliterated."

Skyfire stood horrified before the screen, the shock managing to momentarily paralyze some of his systems.

"We found the Aerialbots Silverbolt, Skydive and Air Raid on the perimeters, destroying the area," Onslaught continued, apparently not having noticed the effect of his words. "We engaged and made them retreat, but when we arrived at Jasper there was nothing left standing and all life signals had been terminated. We searched for survivors for more than an hour, but it was useless."

"No… that can't be…" Carly muttered, almost tripping over Chip's chair.

Skyfire recovered the use of his vocalizer and turned to Megatron. For once, he forgot about the instinctive hate he had for the Decepticon leader. "The Autobots… did they… oh Primus… did they do this?"

Megatron nodded rather coldly, but still Skyfire could see that he was not indifferent towards the massacre. "They did, and I'm afraid this was just the beginning. Prime used that human settlement as an experiment. Now that he knows that his boundaries are no more, there's no way to tell how far he can take his contempt toward all his former values."

"That's a trick!" Spike kept holding to his truth. "The Autobots would never do anything like that! This is a dirty lie and you know it, Megatron! Your Decepticons have impersonated the Autobots before! You… you did that! You murdered an entire town!"

Megatron stared at Spike for a moment before turning his attention to the screen again. "Onslaught, return to the Nemesis immediately. If you left any traces of your presence in that settlement, make sure to erase them."

Onslaught nodded. _"As you command, Megatron. Onslaught out."_

Then, Megatron turned to Skyfire. "Your human friend insists on distrusting us. Is that your case as well, Skyfire?"

The recently converted Autobot hesitated. He hated to be the center of the attention, something that was very frequent due to his dimensions. But most of all, he hated when his decisions were meant to be the prequel of radical, definitive changes. As a scientist, he was used to thorough and exact calculations. Anything else than implied uncertainty, meant chaos… And he was not good in handling chaos.

"The Aerialbots attacked us," he said somberly. "They shot to kill. I heard the tone of their voices… It was them, but at the same time it wasn't. I'm not ready to compute everything that has happened today, but giving you the benefit of the doubt is all I can offer you, Megatron. Is that enough?"

"It shall be for now, but you must understand that it's not only your trust that I'm asking of you, but also your help. Not only have our personality components been redirected, but our war has been as well. If we are going to stop the Autobots from destroying this planet, we must work together."

The Autobots… destroying Earth? When had insanity replaced reality?

Skyfire bowed his head. He had joined the Decepticons once, only to discover that their twisted ideology was full of lies and evilness. What waited for him now, if he accepted the purple insignia again?

His spark was still full of doubts, but there was one thing he knew above anything else, and that gave him strength. "My only concern is the protection of this planet and all the innocent beings that inhabit it."

Megatron smiled slightly. "Coincidentally, such is also my priority."

"No! You can't do that, Skyfire, you can't—"

Carly grabbed Spike's arm and managed to control his latest outburst, but he wasn't the one she addressed. "Megatron, you saved us and I admit it. But what will happen to our friends and family? I'm an orphan, but Spike and Chip have families that have been in contact with the Autobots… What about them? Are they in danger?"

Megatron frowned, seeming to recall any other human acquaintances the Autobots had had in the past, although Skyfire was certain that the Decepticon leader had never paid them more attention than he would have to a particle of dust.

"Tell me where I can find these humans. We will put them to safety too."

Spike shook his head, but he seemed too appalled to keep refusing. When Chip set the example and gave Megatron the information he had requested, Carly grabbed Spike's arm.

"Your father… if what we've seen today is true, he's in big danger."

"I… I have to warn him."

"There's no time for that. Spike, you saw what happened," Carly said, trying to be strong for both of them. "You saw the Aerialbots yourself… They… they were out of control. If the rest of the Autobots are suffering from the same insanity… Spike, they may go after Sparkplug. If that happens, the Decepticons are the only ones who can help him."

Spike nodded, fighting the wetness of his eyes. "My father has a workshop… not very far away from Chip's house."

Megatron looked at Soundwave, who was highlighting on a holographic map the coordinates that Chip had given him.

"Soundwave, what is our closest unit to Portland?"

The Communications Officer did a quick check on the computer. "Stunticons located at Interstate 84."

"Send them immediately. Tell Motormaster to avoid collateral damage in case they find Autobot opposition."

Some more things were said, some more orders were made… The scene kept being played before Skyfire's eyes like a nightmare. Decepticons… taking actions to protect his human friends from the Autobots… What had happened? Once again, Skyfire awakened to a reality that wasn't his own. Once again, he was being forced to acknowledge friends and foes that he didn't even know; worse, that he thought he had known... He was trapped, lonelier and more helpless than ever. And he couldn't allow himself to falter, not when his human friends needed him the most.

When the hand positioned on his shoulder, Skyfire recognized its warmth. He also welcomed it.

Starscream didn't have to tell him anything to make him feel better. He had always had that effect on him, and neither time nor distance had managed to change that.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>Ah, sorry for killing off Raoul… I really don't enjoy the death of canon characters, but this one was necessary. In order to keep this story realistic, some heads have to roll.<em>

_I hope you enjoyed to see the Combaticons at the other side of the mirror. I did my best to respect their personalities even considering the radical change their programming suffered. Next chapter we will get to see the Stunticons in action… and some Autobots too. We'll see how both groups handle their new ethics on the battlefield._

_Thanks for reading and please let me know your opinions and suggestions._

_Peace!_


	5. Stunticons to the rescue

_First of all, Happy New Year to you all! I hope you received this 2012 better than I did, prostrated in a bed and suffering the worse laryngitis of my life. But no matter what, it's always better to welcome the year with a smile and with a good dose of Transformers fanfiction. _

_So here you have it, my first update of the year. I have another two in progress, so you can be sure that I'll be posting stuff regularly. Years keep coming and going, and many things vanish, but my love for Transformers only grows stronger._

_I feel very honoured to say that this chapter was beta read by QoS, a phenomenal writer and person. Her Stunticon stories made me a believer, not to mention that they taught me how beautiful fanfiction can really be. Many thanks for your help, Queen of Stunticons :o)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

**Stunticons to the rescue**

Drag Strip had won the race; that didn't surprise him. His current mission hadn't surprised him either; he was going to retrieve that human because he wanted to, not because Motormaster had ordered him to do it. He was also the best option for the job; sleek, fast, beautiful, a winner by all means, the kind a human would trust in.

Drag Strip had never cared about humans. He saw them in the streets, he crashed their cars, he occasionally rolled over them – not by choice, though; he didn't like viscous fluids on his hood or bumper. But now he cared, maybe not as much as he did for his paintjob, but enough as to realize that they also inhabited _his _planet. Unlike the rest of the Decepticons, Drag Strip and the Stunticons had been assembled on Earth and been made from terrestrial vehicles. The planet was their home and they had to defend it. The reasoning had sounded very logical when Motormaster had said it some minutes ago. Even Drag Strip had agreed that his brutish leader was right – for the first time in Motormaster's life perhaps, but right nevertheless.

Dead End's immediate arguments about how they would have thought very differently just one minute ago had been promptly ignored. The truth was that the Stunticons felt good. One moment they had been crashing cars in their nineteenth Demolition Derby. The other they had removed said cars from the pile of junk in an attempt to correct what they had done. Even Dead End had agreed that it had been the right thing to do, while Wildrider hadn't stopped apologizing to the few humans he could find on the area – most of them had fled, of course.

Wildrider… where was he, exactly?

"Hey," Drag Strip said through his commlink, targeting Wildrider's frequency.

"_Yeah?" _Wildrider replied after some moments of static.

"Where are you? I always beat you, but this time I can't even see you."

"_Hehehe, you didn't beat me yesterday... But today I made a tactical stop."_

Drag Strip would have frowned had he been in bipedal mode, and if he had had two optics instead of a visor. "You took a shortcut yesterday, you didn't win a frag— Wait. What kind of tactical stop?"

"_Remember the fountain we broke when we were racing blindly last week?"_

Wildrider may have been racing blindly. Even though he had also offlined his optical sensors, Drag Strip had made a brilliant race, hardly what anybody could call blind. "Yeah, so?"

"_So I stopped there and tried to see if I could fix it… But it was gone. I found some workers, though; first they ran away and then they started to throw cans of beer at me. I think they wanted to get me drunk, possibly laid."_

Drag Strip turned around, looking for the best place to face plant himself. "Yesss, that must be exactly what they wanted… So are you with me or not? 'Cause I'm about to start this mission by myself!"

"I'm here,"Wildrider said, his voice more than audible, appearing on the nearest corner and honking his klaxon. Now that was a face palm moment; Drag Strip wondered what it would take for his insane teammate to learn the basics about stealth.

Drag Strip revved his engine impatiently as Wildrider drove towards him. "Okay, here's the plan: I get in, take the human and get out in less than five seconds—"

"What if the human is in the washroom?"

"Fine, ten seconds then."

"What if he's interfacing? Do you recall what humans do when they interface?"

No, Drag Strip didn't want to recall it. It had been far too traumatizing that time he had seen those two humans in the back of that van…

"I've got a better plan," Wildrider said. "Why don't I go in instead? You call too much attention 'cause you're a race car."

Drag Strip had to agree on that. He was a natural magnet for attention due to his beautiful, polished looks. Maybe it was better if Wildrider retrieved the objective. Besides, the memory of the two humans in the van finished making up his mind.

"'Kay. Five seconds, Wildrider."

"Gimme ten. Remember that Motormaster said that we had to be… How did he call it? Oh yeah, careful."

Drag Strip wished he had been in bipedal mode, because he would have been able to scowl that way. He gave up. Talking to Wildrider was entertaining but most of the time useless. It would be better to let him do things his way, and cover him from the comfort of the only shadowed spot in the street.

* * *

><p>William 'Sparkplug' Witwicky smiled at the sheet of paper featuring his name. Finally, one day after having finished paying the loan from the bank, he could call himself the proud owner of 'Witwicky Auto Repairs', a dream came true after twelve years of hard work on the oil rig. But more than his own business, it was the opportunity to give Spike a better future. Having a son in college would surpass any of Sparkplug's personal achievements, including the medals he had won in Korea.<p>

He heard an engine outside his office. Great, a customer, and driving a fancy car if his ears remained as expert as ever to recognize the kind. Fortunately, customers had never been scarce due to his good hand with machines and his association with the Autobots. But this customer was special; it was the first one he would attend as owner and CEO. He would make sure to give him a premiere service.

He opened the door of his office and walked toward the workshop. Hanging engines and a dismantled truck obstructed his view, but he spotted an unmistakable bumper. A Ferrari… it wasn't every day that he managed to get his hands on one of those beauties.

But when he passed the dismantled truck his grin vanished. His heart reminded him of his cardiac condition, just as the purple insignia on the Ferrari's hood showed him just how special his customer was.

"What's up, Doc? I think I have a leak. Wanna take a look at it?"

Sparkplug turned and bolted out of the workshop and into his office, hitting his knee against a stool. A Decepticon… a Stunticon! – Fortunately – he had never had any interaction with the craziest and most dangerous Decepticon Gestalt, but he had heard from the Autobots that Wildrider was the worst by far, completely insane and unpredictable.

"Hey, what about an oil change?" the strongly Texan-accented voice said behind him.

Sparkplug headed to the back door as fast as he could, perfectly aware that his chances of outrunning a Stunticon were minimal. But what else could he do? He didn't know what Wildrider wanted with him, but his intentions couldn't be good.

Abruptly the roof above his head was wrenched off. Sparkplug flung himself under the desk. He was doomed. He knew that the Transformers had heat detectors…

"Oops, sorry!" the Stunticon laughed. "I'll get you a new one, okay? Now, where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you aaaare. What was it that I was supposed to say…? Oh yeah, I'm here to help you, human!"

Sparkplug grabbed the small communicator in his pocket and punched the button frantically. If there were Autobots close by they would receive his SOS signal and come to his aid… but he doubted they would arrive in time.

When not only the ceiling but the furniture of the small office started to become airborne, Sparkplug decided that he hadn't survived eleven deadly missions in Korea and countless dangerous situations with the Autobots only to die hiding under a desk. He gulped in a breath and ran toward the back door, which was miraculously still attached to the wall.

"Oh, there you are, Doc! I was serious about the leak."

Sparkplug opened the door only to find a huge metal frame that partially covered the sun. His initial dread turned into relief when he recognized Wheeljack.

"Oh, thank God!" he said, hurrying to his best friend, who extended a hand towards him. "There's a Stunticon—"

But that was as far as he went. Something grabbed him from behind and threw him upwards. Next thing he knew, he was falling right into a mess of metal switching form. He landed on a soft seat, but he couldn't really appreciate it because he hit his chin against the steering wheel that featured a Decepticon insignia in the place where a Ferrari symbol should have been.

"Oh no, you're not!" the Stunticon's voice said from all around him. "This is my human! Get yours… or better not!"

Wildrider drove backwards, demolishing what was left of Sparkplug's office. The rest of the workshop had a similar fate when the Stunticon broke the main wall and landed on the street. He immediately skidded and started to speed up down the street. Sparkplug looked over his shoulder. Already transformed, Wheeljack was pursuing, but Wildrider's speedometer was already at 100 miles per hour.

"It won't be so easy for you, Decepticon!" Sparkplug said. He stepped hard on the brake, but nothing happened.

"Hahaha, that tickles!" Wildrider said. "Do it again!"

Scowling because of his failure, Sparkplug punched the Ferrari's dashboard, but all that happened was that he turned the cassette player on.

"Good idea! Racing is better with music!" the Decepticon laughed as Van Halen's 'Runnin' with the Devil' started to sound. If the volume hadn't almost deafened him, Sparkplug would have appreciated the irony.

The seatbelt closed around Sparkplug at the same time something shocked Wildrider. It had been like an electrical discharge of some sort, although not very intense.

"Don't worry, Doc!" Wildrider told him. "I gotta force field! Let them shoot, they can't hurt us."

_They?_

Sparkplug looked at the rear mirror. It was true, Smokescreen had joined the chase and was closing the distance between him and Wildrider. That was perfectly fine with Sparkplug, but the laser fire surprised him. Hadn't his friends noticed that he was inside the Stunticon? If they managed to shoot his kidnapper off the road, Sparkplug would get hurt too…

"Yikes, good aim!" Wildrider screeched when something shocked him from beneath. "Now I have two leaks instead of one!"

Wildrider headed toward the end of the street. The crossroad that connected it to the highway was it sight, crowded as always on a weekend afternoon. Sparkplug didn't want to imagine the havoc that the Stunticon would cause. Many people would get hurt, probably die.

But to his surprise, his captor veered and headed towards an adjacent street, much less crowded. That wasn't typical Stunticon behaviour. Sparkplug knew that the team of Decepticon cars had force fields, and Wildrider should have been able to pass through the traffic like a knife through butter. Why had he avoided crashing, if that was what the Stunticons lived for?

Sparkplug glanced at the rear mirror again, only to see a yellow bolt ram Smokescreen and fling him off the road. Immediately, Wildrider braked to a perfect stop and Wheeljack crashed against him so hard that Sparkplug was sure that they would end up in the tiniest smithereens.

"Force field, baby! Never leave home without it!" Wildrider cried excitedly.

The Stunticon's force field had done its job indeed. The Ferrari remained intact, whilst Wheeljack was propelled upwards and crashed against a tree, ending up in very bad shape.

"Wheeljack!" Sparkplug couldn't help crying out.

"Don't worry, Doc. He'll be all right, he just needs a little patching up."

Drag Strip approached after crashing Smokescreen and stopped beside Wildrider. "What the slag was that? I mean it, Wildrider, if you killed the human…"

"I'm insane, not an idiot! I secured him with my seat belt, see? 'Sides, I took most of the hit."

There was a moment of silence in which a green light coming from the yellow Stunticon bathed Sparkplug, certainly scanning him.

"Fine. Let's go back then. I wanna arrive before Motormaster does."

Sparkplug was so appalled that he didn't notice that neither of the two Stunticons crashed any vehicle on their way back.

* * *

><p>Despite not having lived during the majority of the Cybertronian war, Motormaster was very familiar with the concept of hell. Chaos, destruction, death… they were regular sights to his optics, and also normal consequences of his actions.<p>

So the sight of the building on fire didn't surprise him.

What irked him, though, was the sight of the Protectobot Blades shooting bolt after bolt of laser fire at the upper floors, a bunch of humans were piled up and trying to get to the lower levels.

Motormaster opened the Gestalt link and sent Dead End and Breakdown an order to scatter, then wasted no time in starting to shoot Blades himself. Motormaster hadn't the best aim when it came to mobile targets and he missed the Protectobot, but at least managed to redirect the attack from a building full of humans to himself.

Blades had noticed him indeed, and likewise wasted no time in shooting to kill, but Motormaster had an alloy as strong as his will. No weakling copter was a rival for him, especially if it was a Protectobot. Motormaster used the same technique he had used against Vortex once; let the slagger get closer, shooting and hurting Motormaster a bit, it didn't matter, and just when he got in shooting range…

A small explosion and a cloud of smoke rewarded his patience when Blades lost altitude and crashed against an outdoor advertisement. Motormaster smirked and lowered his cyclone rifle. One down, four left to go.

A bolt of plasma energy impacted his back, making him drop his weapon and almost sending him to the ground as well. But Motormaster remained standing and whirled around to face the leader of the Protectobots. Dead End and Breakdown were already fighting Streetwise and First Aid, respectively.

"I don't lie when I say that it's very nice to see you!" Hot Spot yelled at him as he waved at the destruction around them. "I guess you couldn't wait to admire your work."

Motormaster frowned. Was the slagging Protectobot trying to blame him for what was happening? Practical as always, he wasn't going to waste time with stupid questions, so he seized sword and attacked his enemy immediately.

Hot Spot shot again but Motormaster stopped the attack with his sword. The Protectobot jumped back and ran, almost getting hit by a blue car that came out from an adjacent street. As the car braked to avoid Hot Spot, Motormaster could see that there was a human family unit inside.

Hot Spot sneered and grabbed the car, lifting it up above his head. "Hey, Motormaster, do you know if humans can fly? What do you say we find out?"

Motormaster didn't have to think about it twice. He dropped his sword and jumped to catch the car right before it crashed against a building. He made sure to turn around as he landed back, to stop the incoming fire from damaging the humans. He clenched his denta plates when his back was hit again and again, but he succeeded in getting the car to safety.

As it happened with every one of Megatron's orders, Motormaster hadn't questioned what had happened some breems ago. Of course it had felt weird, but he was no scientist weakling and couldn't have told what the slag had glitched inside his processor. Dead End had said that the disruption had happened specifically in their personality components, and he also had said some other technical slag that Motormaster hadn't really understood, or cared about for that matter.

Motormaster was a bot of determination and fast decisions, not of brooding reasoning. Experience had taught him that following his first instinct was always the right thing to do, and for slag's sake, he was more convinced than ever that he was doing the right thing. More so because Megatron approved of his way of thinking and had specifically ordered him to retrieve two humans, the makers of the human denominated Chip Chase. Autobot interference had been expected, but Motormaster hadn't counted with destruction on that scale. He had his orders indeed, but he was sure that Megatron wouldn't mind if he saved some other humans in the process.

Once he saw that the blue car was speeding up safely down the street, Motormaster refocused his attention to punishing the Autoslag. He had been shot a lot all right, but that was nothing new for him. The Autobots always targeted him, but he was tough and resistant and could take it. Besides, by being the enemy's primary target, he also spared his teammates from getting slagged. As much as they were a failure by his standards, Motormaster would die for any of those slaggers any day, no matter how programming-glitched they were.

He focused his attention to his right for a moment, where Breakdown and Dead End were having their fight. The idiots… it seemed they were doing fine against the Protectobots. Good. He could focus on his fight now.

He looked at the destruction around him. "For _this _you'll pay."

He transformed to his alt mode, engine roaring as the King of the Road made his challenge.

Hot Spot seemed to smirk under his battle mask and transformed as well, more than eager to dethrone the former monarch and claim the scepter to himself.

* * *

><p>Dead End had always thought that reaching the small hidden spot at the middle of his back with the buffer was the hardest thing he had ever done. But now, as he tried to save humans and fight Streetwise at the same time, he realized that there was a new champion.<p>

He was defending himself more than fighting, taking small advantage of Breakdown's engine vibrations to use the extra time and get human after human to safety. But it wasn't easy… Ah, such a good time to say his first aloud 'Frag'. The moment deserved it.

"Breakdown, I could use some cover—" He cringed when he was hit by a laser bolt, but he kept shielding the group of humans, really hoping that his force field would hold it.

Breakdown was beside him in no time, having managed to put First Aid out of commission rather easily; it seemed that despite whatever had happened to both Decepticons and Autobots, First Aid continued being a bad fighter.

A crashing sound made every window on the area break. Streetwise momentarily stopped shooting Dead End and transformed to his vehicle mode, heading toward the other side of the street.

"Are you okay?" Breakdown asked. Dead End allowed his teammate to manipulate him in search of serious damage. Breakdown had always been very tactile with him, and it seemed that he was going to be even more from now on.

"I won't die," Dead End said, not bothered by the fact that he would live at least one minute more.

Breakdown pointed behind his teammate. "What about them?"

A fast glance revealed that the humans would live too. Some of them looked marred, but not excessively. Now that Streetwise was out of sight, perhaps it would be a good idea to assist Motormaster. Dead End was also worried because he hadn't spotted Groove yet.

He and Breakdown transformed to their vehicle modes and went after Streetwise. They found him on the main street, shooting at Motormaster beside the immobile, dented frame of Hot Spot.

"Seems like Motormaster won this chicken game," Breakdown said.

"Make sure to remind him to rub that in Optimus Prime's face next time he sees him."

Motormaster had won, but he had other kind of problems. He was currently the target of a combined attack from Groove – so there he was – and Streetwise. Two Protectobots wouldn't have normally be a problem for the Stunticon leader, but he couldn't do anything but be the receiving end as he was sustaining the upper part of a building that had just collapsed.

"What now?" Breakdown asked, hesitant because he knew, as all the Stunticons did, how much Motormaster hated when they interfered in his fights. "Uh… maybe we can record this for Drag Strip?"

"That's a possibility, but we can also help Motormaster."

Dead End and Breakdown had no problems in making the Protectobots retreat, making good use of the element of surprise. But Hot Spot chose that precise moment to return to online status. He was far too dented to keep fighting, but when five members of a Gestalt were not enough, there was always something left to do.

"Protectobots, unite—!"

Dead End knew what was coming, including their doom. Without Wildrider and Drag Strip, they didn't have a chance.

But Motormaster knew it too. Right as Hot Spot was giving the order, the Stunticon leader turned towards his subordinates. They were outnumbered, but they were also Gestalts and they knew exactly where to aim.

"The interlocks!" he shouted at them. "Don't allow them to merge!"

"—and transform into Defensoaaarrrrh!"

Dead End and Breakdown emptied their weapons on the specific spots, preventing the giant robot from forming. Motormaster placed the half of the building on the safety of the ground and joined his teammates with his rifle, ending any remaining possibility of the merge taking place.

"You should really consider changing the name of your Gestalt, Autoslag," Motormaster said to the defeated Protectobots.

The damaged Gestalt separated from the half merged monster they had managed to form; Hot Spot, First Aid and Blades were visibly damaged. Hot Spot cursed and punched a lamp pole before giving the signal to retreat. Before transforming, he smirked at Motormaster.

"You may think you won, but that's hardly the case. You know those two humans you were looking for? We killed them right before you arrived. So yeah, enjoy your victory, Motormouth!"

Motormaster growled in rage and shot Hot Spot, but the Protectobot hurried to escape using the debris as cover.

Dead End dared to look at his leader. He knew him. Both before and after the personality component disruption, Motormaster would react with rage to a failed mission. They had saved almost a hundred human lives, but Dead End knew that that didn't ease Motormaster's frustration. He had failed Megatron's command to protect those two humans, and that wouldn't cease to haunt him.

Still, he ordered them to stay and keep rescuing humans from the debris. The three Stunticons did that for the next few minutes, until a unit of human soldiers arrived and started to shoot at them. Illogical, considering that it had been the Protectobots who had caused the destruction and the Stunticons had done nothing but help. What wasn't illogical, though, was Motormaster's order to retreat without firing a single shot toward the soldiers. Better, because Dead End had to admit that he would have found it very difficult to attack them. He had always been indifferent towards inflicting damage, but recently-appeared glimpses inside his processor were starting to tell him that sometimes inflicting damage could serve a major goal, such as protecting the lives of innocents.

It wasn't until later that cycle when Dead End laughed about his recent discovery. He never laughed, but he didn't find it difficult to do, especially when he realized that his train of thoughts, as ridiculous as it sounded, felt right as well.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>I'm enjoying this part of the story a lot; such a little amount of time has passed and yet so many things have happened… And, as you can see, I'm taking my time to narrate them all. <em>

_Update coming really soon. Please review and share your opinions with me._


	6. Dr Jekyll has left the building

**Chapter 6**

**Dr. Jekyll has left the building**

**or**

**Does Mr. Hyde play basketball?**

The orange sphere looked even smaller in Optimus Prime's hand, but still he handled it with a level of ease that would have surprised the most skilled NBA star.

The rest of the Autobots waited, half hypnotized by the perfect rotation happening on the fingertip belonging to the leader they would follow to death. Despite the recent news, it looked like nothing but the basketball had the current attention of the Matrix carrier.

The leather ball's movement was fascinating, much more than it had been the day Spike had taught Optimus Prime how to play basketball. Back then, it had been a meaningless diversion. Now, it was an eerie prologue.

The small explosion didn't surprise anyone, even though such scene had never happened before. The Autobots knew things now, things that they hadn't realized before. And they seemed more than fair. They seemed right.

Hot Spot fell flat on the floor, his body clattering like a broken drone. The smoke from the barrel of Optimus' rifle continued to rise to the ceiling whilst his right hand remained still, the basketball still dancing perfectly on the tip of his finger. Most of the Autobots pleasantly remembered how deadly their leader could be. Some of them were witnessing it for the first time.

Jazz tightened his grip on Streetwise's arm and yanked him forward, making him join his team. The Protectobots were not used to being on their knees, but it was the only place they currently belonged.

Streetwise tried not to look at the broken form of his Gestalt leader, or at his kneeling teammates. It wasn't deactivation that he feared, but the confrontation of failure, another stranger to the Protectobots' programming.

Optimus was not one to be kept waiting. When it was obvious that Streetwise was not going to start speaking by himself, Prowl gave him a firm reminder by hitting his head with the butt of his gun.

"Report," Prowl ordered, as cold as always.

"T-the Stunticons repelled us… but we terminated the two humans—"

"What were your orders, Streetwise?" Optimus Prime interrupted, rifle in the left hand and basketball in the right. His mood was calm, despite hearing the same news that Hot Spot had already reported.

"Terminate the humans denominated Cynthia and Stephen Chase, and return to the Ark immediately." Streetwise found the floor a much more relieving sight. He couldn't stand looking at the Autobot leader's optics at that moment.

Optimus nodded. "Two simple orders, as I recall. Now tell me, how did you and your team alter them?"

Yeah, the floor was definitely better, and way more merciful. "We attacked the human settlement, killing more than the two humans specified… But not before we terminated the targets."

"You disobeyed direct orders and compromised our position," Optimus said, as if he hadn't heard Streetwise at all. "All when I had already stated how important was to maintain our façade with the humans."

Optimus' rifle vomited fire again. Streetwise's arm flew sideways and clanked against Ironhide's leg, who kicked it disdainfully.

"Indiscipline," Optimus continued, not paying any attention to the mutilated Protectobot's cries of pain. "Such has been the flaw that has characterized our kind. And mediocrity."

When Streetwise kept howling, a simple glance at his leader made it clear to Ironhide that Optimus had had enough of listening to whining. Reformatting his hand into his Water Gun, Ironhide shot a powerful stream of liquid nitrogen, literally freezing the Protectobot and his noisy vocalizer.

Optimus stopped rotating the basketball and caught it in his hand. "Autobots, the time has come to eradicate the burden of our past. We have allowed indiscipline and mediocrity to make us their targets for orns, but our sins end today. The day has come to retrieve what is rightfully ours. The day has come to arise as one!"

The cry had been heard for the first time in a gladiatorial pit, but every Autobot knew it, even though their vocalizers had never pronounced it.

"Till all are one!"

Nobody seemed to remember that the cry had been made to honour someone else; nobody dared to take that trip to the past. The words were theirs now; they belonged to the Autobots as everything else they had let slip through their fingers for the past fifty thousand vorns.

"Till all are one, till all are one!"

The general enthusiasm didn't reach Optimus Prime. He remained indifferent, certainly rationalizing strategies rather than blinding himself with anticipated victory.

"Have Blaster fix this mess with the humans and make sure to tell everybody about their new assignments," he told to Prowl, closing his hand in a fist and crushing the basketball before walking toward the exit of the Command Centre. "I won't be as tolerant with failure as I was with the Protectobots today."

* * *

><p>"Hot Spot sustained direct damage to the spark chamber and one of his main fuel lines was severed," Hoist informed from the door.<p>

Ratchet didn't bother to detach his gaze from the blueprints on the table. "I know that. I undertook the diagnosis myself."

"His wounds are serious. I'm going to need your help to repair him."

"I already took care of the immediate danger. As for the rest, have First Aid assist you."

"Yeah, if he ever wakes up from stasis lock."

Ratchet slammed the table with one hand, finally turning to address Hoist. "Then ask Wheeljack or Perceptor. I don't know."

"Perceptor is quite busy experimenting with living humans right now, and Wheeljack is already struggling with Streetwise's arm… Besides, they don't have your expertise."

Ratchet sighed heavily. "Haven't you ever considered that being the eternal medic _and_ nannybot of all you slaggers is not exactly my dream life?"

Hoist snorted. "Look, I'm no more into repair duty than you are, but we need the Protectobots functional. Those were Prime's orders."

"Then tell Prime to come and repair them himself. Perhaps he should remember that I can't deal with all his caprices at the same slaggin' time!"

As if invocated, the devil in question arrived. Hoist hurried to step aside and leave the laboratory, uneasy about the newly revealed side of Optimus Prime he had witnessed in the Command Centre.

Ratchet was very aware that his leader had heard him, but that didn't make him change his attitude. He had known Optimus Prime since his early days, and ever since then their relationship had been scarce of the blind respect many Autobots established as the protocol to follow with their leader.

"Vector Sigma must have been defective when it granted you the ability to speak, Ratchet. Perhaps your vocalizer would look better separated from your structure."

"Oh, I'm sure it would make a good sight indeed, but not as much as you think," Ratchet replied bluntly, not impressed at all by the threat. "As you know perfectly well, you couldn't function without me… or my vocalizer."

Optimus Prime smirked beneath his face mask. "Before, perhaps, but now…"

"Now more than ever," Ratchet stated firmly. "The last thing you need is 'Bots who keep telling you that everything is fine, am I right? Now, are you going to keep wasting my time or are we going to proceed to business? As you know, my presence was requested to fix the consequences of your recently unleashed anger. Question: did you have it all this time, or did you just happen to discover it by coincidence?"

"Ask yourself about the moment you stopped caring about saving lives and there you'll have your answer," Optimus replied as he headed towards the table. "Dysfunctional feelings are no longer my concern, logic is. The Protectobots will remain on line because I can't afford to lose a Gestalt, but right now my attention belongs to another team."

Ratchet pointed to the blueprints. "I have been breaking my processor for several hours and my answer remains the same. It will be very difficult to reprogram the Dinobots without severely affecting their fighting abilities."

Optimus cursed in Cybertronian. "I asked you for solutions, Ratchet, not to pinpoint obvious obstacles. The Dinobots don't possess a Cybertronian processor, and thus they were not affected by the massive reprogramming we all went through twenty breems ago."

"Am I stupid, that you need to repeat what we all know?"

"Stupidity has never been your problem. Not as much as disrespect, that is… Ratchet, I need the Dinobots on our side."

"Then you better start telling them bedtime stories about how mistaken our ways used to be. And now that you mention problems, I see you maintain your old ingenuity intact."

"Is it naïve to secure the loyalty of a combat unit that we built ourselves?"

"I find the word 'we' a little presumptuous, even more than defining the Dinobots as something as simple as a combat unit."

"Careful, Ratchet. It would be good for you to understand your boundaries," Optimus said, staring at Ratchet with a gaze the medic had never seen before.

Still, Ratchet didn't flinch. "All I'm saying is that the Dinobots are a force of nature, and of the nature of this organic planet, to make things worse. Do I also have to remind you that they have been close to betraying us before? What will they do now, when you send them on, let's say, _slightly_ different missions to the ones they are used to?"

"If I knew that, I would certainly not have told you to find a way to reprogram them."

Ratchet laughed openly. "Which returns us to the beginning… Optimus, I'm not saying it can't be done. It'll just take time."

"How much?"

Ratchet's joints creaked as he gave another heavy sigh. "Not as much as it would take me if you didn't keep bothering me with other pitiful duties."

"Duties such as repairing your beloved Autobot brethren."

"What a coincidence. I was thinking about the same thing… Let's face it, Prime, you're exploring foreign territory. You're going to need more than fantasies and ambitions."

Optimus shot a disdainful glare at the medic. "Talking about coincidences, I've been thinking exactly that since I first realized the fact that most of my army is made of former-pacifists, not effective soldiers."

"Then you'll agree with me that changes are needed… changes such as the reorganization of your High Command. Perhaps the proper establishment of hierarchies would give you the power to turn your dreams into a reality. 'Eradicating indiscipline and mediocrity in order to arise as one…' Yeah, nice words, but you're going to need the right mechs to make them happen."

"Mechs like you, you mean? And how does a poor excuse for a warrior like you fit in my new scheme, Ratchet? Enlighten me. I ordered you to reprogram the Dinobots, not to show me how big your delusions of grandeur are."

The medic held the blueprints and shook them before Optimus' face. "Every ruler needs an angel of death, Optimus. I have been your CMO all this time, but my new programming has shown me how far I was from achieving my real potential. Will the Dinobots be enough for what you want? Will _we _be enough? Don't forget that our enemies changed too, and that we may acquire new enemies on the road. To fight them, you're going to need a real army. That's where I fit into your scheme. I can give you soldiers as fierce as the Dinobots, but without their glitched morals. Of course, in order to achieve that, I'm going to need clearance, and complete access to all our resources."

"You ask too much."

"Not as much as what I'm offering you," Ratchet continued, walking towards the door that led to the Dinobots' lair. "We are a technological race. We were created as such, and yet we have failed to become as perfect as logic wanted us to be. The Dinobots lie behind these doors, offlined as you ordered, but still powerful, unpredictable weapons. Trying to give them conscience was Wheeljack's mistake, but I can assure you that weaknesses such as ethics and morals are no longer in my schedule." Ratchet turned towards Optimus, his newborn ambition making his optics shine as raw Energon. "Make me your Second in Command, Optimus, and I'll show you what I'm capable of."

Optimus was not easy to amaze. He had never been, and he certainly wasn't now. But still, he seemed taken aback by his CMO's words, if only for a moment.

"Second in Command? And you spill it just like that?" A foreign, dark chuckle came from Optimus' vocalizer. "Ratchet, Ratchet, Ratchet… who would have guessed what you had hidden in your personality component all this time? And here you had me fooled, thinking that you were a loving good-doctor."

"Let's not start with who had who fooled, because you were the biggest hypocritical glitch of all. Or tell me, is there something surfacing that wasn't there before? Yeah, I didn't think so… I always knew yours was a very twisted processor. It had to be, otherwise you would have never become a Prime."

"Twisted?" Optimus said disdainfully as he snatched the blueprints from Ratchet's hand. "Is it twisted to follow our own nature, Ratchet? Be aware that I'm asking the scientist, not the big-mouthed slagger."

"One can't reply without the other." Ratchet said, a sinister smile spreading over his face. "It's the nature of our kind, indeed… And we all used to look aside and change the subject whenever somebody mentioned the tyranny of our ancient Autobot Council. But as comfortable as those times used to be, I dare to assume that you're not exactly aiming to restore our grandiose Golden Era."

"Annoying you may be, but you also have great insight, old friend. My goal is a completely new regime, one which truly maximizes the potential of our kind."

Ratchet smirked. "That sounds familiar… Are you sure _nobody _elsesaid those words before you? After our drastic change, I would have expected better from you concerning originality."

Optimus' commlink beeped, the blue light illuminating two very cold blue optics.

"We'll talk about your problem with discipline later, Ratchet," he said, clicking the button on his chest. "Yes, Prowl?"

"_Incoming communication from the Nemesis."_

"Send it to my private frequency in ten astroseconds," Optimus said before addressing the medic again. "We're done for the moment, Ratchet. You'll have clearance for your research, but focus on our priorities first. Next time we meet I want to see functional, loyal Dinobots willing to obey every single one of my commands."

Ratchet smirked. "And you shall have them. Congratulations, Optimus. You got yourself an army… and a future Second in Command."

"First things first. Prove that you're more valuable to me now than you were before our reprogramming. Things haven't changed so much to make me forget about rewarding loyalty," Optimus said, nodding to Ratchet and heading towards the exit. "Now, if you excuse me, there's _another_ old friend that I'm looking forward to greeting."

The echoes of Optimus Prime's steps were not heard by the mech left behind. For the first time in his life, Ratchet's mind was not full of disturbing preoccupation about others. His thoughts were his again. He was, for once, the center of his own universe.

It wasn't about power, it wasn't even about glory.

It was about individuality, the most sacred ambition of all.

And Ratchet was already rejoicing in it.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson, I meant no disrespect…<em>

_I take it you guys remember one of the G1 episodes in which Spike was teaching Optimus Prime how to play basketball. I don't remember exactly which episode it was, but I recall Prime handling that ball like a true Michael Jordan. We'd still have to see him dunk, though._

_The "Till all are one" cry happened after one of Megatron's fights at a gladiatorial arena in IDW's 'Megatron origin'._

_Well, that's it for today. I've been pretty busy lately and you may have noticed that I'm not updating as frequently as I was doing it, but I'll do my best to keep active in fanfiction, my biggest vice of all. Mm, writing evil Autobots is proving to be a good incentive…_

_Many thanks for your reviews. They are always a fountain of inspiration :o)_

_My gratitude goes also to iratepirate for beta reading this chapter. _


	7. Meanwhile, on Cybertron…

_It's been a while since I updated this story – I could say the same about all my ongoing stories, ugh…_

_Anyway, late is better than never. Some of you asked about what was happening on Cybertron, so here you have the answer. Actually, some very important events will be unleashed as consequence of this chapter._

_I can't thank iratepirate enough for her beta reading services. Once again, she makes space in her very busy schedule to revise my stuff. Many thanks sis!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

**Meanwhile, on Cybertron…**

It wasn't the alteration of his priorities, but of his percentages, that made Shockwave's optical sensor dim in profound reflection.

However, the moment didn't last. Numbers and ethics rearranged in perfect sync, leaving the Universe as the exact equation it had always been. Logic, and order, never hesitated in dominating his processor.

Although the circumstances were new, he knew immediately what course of action to take. Of course, he calculated with 74.45% exactitude, that Megatron would be too busy to take his call at that moment. And he was, as Shockwave's unsuccessful attempt of communication with Earth proved.

Such failure didn't bother him, though. Shockwave knew how to wait, and so he would. Whether it took one astroklik or four million years to reach his leader, he would wait patiently, logic and reason the only engines guiding him.

He had, however, other concerns besides establishing a direct communication with his Supreme Commander. He was certain that the programming of every functional Transformer had been rerouted and, whilst he couldn't do anything regarding the Cybertronians stationed on Earth, he was directly affected by the ones that remained on the planet that Megatron had entrusted him to guard.

Shockwave accessed the main computer, as he did every cycle and every astroklik, the radical twist of his ethics making no difference. Something had shifted, and yet he didn't feel that his priorities had changed at all. The maintenance of Cybertron continued to be his biggest concern, so the first thing he displayed on the screen was the Energon levels, the status of the planet's integrity, the locations of his active drones…

Only when he finished did he focus his attention on the one thing his computers couldn't control. Autobots, the one unstable variable, the permanent stain. Destroying them was the logical course of action, and there was no reason to think otherwise – as a quick, but thorough assessment proved. If the Autobots threatened the peace of Cybertron, then they had to be removed from the equation.

As he continued to monitor one hundred and fifty seven screens simultaneously, and waiting patiently for Lord Megatron to acknowledge him, Shockwave asked the question of himself.

Had things really changed, then?

The answer was one hundred percent certain:

Negative.

* * *

><p>The explosion shook the entire sublevel, threatening to make it collapse. But it had been a long time since fear, and more recently caution, had been eradicated from the green femme's spark, so she moved graciously amid the melted metal.<p>

As the best shooter of the group, Moonracer always took the first step, making sure there was no immediate danger before signaling her companions to advance. Firestar and Chromia entered behind her, the smoking remains around them not interrupting their conversation, which sounded rather casual.

"So why do you think it happened?" Firestar said, her voice never losing the tone of innocence that seemed to have been embedded into her programming at creation.

Chromia shrugged her shoulders. "Does it really matter? Things changed, plain and simple. You'd do well to stop asking questions."

Good ole, stiff Chromia… Moonracer was close to shaking her head as she saw her teammate taking lead of the small group again. If the epic incident would have cared to be just a little more ironic, then it would have turned Chromia into a cheerful femme. Now that would have made things really interesting.

Moonracer followed Chromia through the narrow corridor, Firestar right behind them. They had been in that portion of the fortress hundreds of times, and yet Chromia continued to address every mission as if it was the first. Personally, Moonracer wouldn't have minded if they took some things for granted. Shockwave hadn't been able to stop them in the past, and he certainly was not going to do it now, when the slagging Cyclops' concerns had certainly taken a drastic turn.

She could feel Firestar continuing her questioning inwardly. Moonracer had heard about Gestalt robots being able to feel their teammate's feelings. It had to be a bond close to what she and her teammates shared; they were not able to combine, but thousands of vorns of uninterrupted coexistence had made them tighter than any programmed link could dictate.

Moonracer wondered how – if – things would change now that everything else had.

"There," Chromia said, pointing toward a corridor to the right.

The female Autobots had emptied the storage rooms of that sublevel three times over the past vorn, playing the game they had started with Shockwave so long ago. The location of those rooms always changed, following an order that had to be everything but random, but most of the time the femmes managed to snatch the precious fuel right out from under Shockwave's only optic.

Moonracer placed the charge of explosives at the bottom of the door at the end of the corridor. Her smirk was casual when she turned to her friends and detonated the bomb.

"After you," she said to Chromia, not paying any attention to the debris that flew so dangerously close to her frame.

"Spare me, Moonracer, and transform. You too, Firestar. We have a lot of Energon to retrieve."

So it seemed that Chromia could get even stiffer… and more ill-humored. "Whatever you say," Moonracer said, raising her arm and firing right beside the Second in Command's head. Chromia didn't even flinch.

"Drones!" Firestar yelled, following her teammate's example and starting to fire towards the new arrivals.

Chromia shot Moonracer a glare before turning around to face their enemies. Moonracer smirked and used her weapon again, for once focusing her perfect aim on kill shots only. She was surprised she hadn't discovered how good they felt before that day.

* * *

><p>"Starscream."<p>

The name died against the walls, just as it had done so many hundreds of times before.

"Starscream," the figure spoke again, a shadow forming on the console, a black mirror confronting its maker, both figures equally deformed. The dark mantra would have continued, if a continuous beeping on the computer hadn't caught the attention of the monster in his chair.

"Mm, what are you up to this time?" he said as he pushed a series of keys with his metallic hands.

One organic eye frowned at the sight of the data displayed on the screen. Its cybernetic twin zoomed in, detecting the alteration.

"Increasing the Energon rations for your active drones, Shockwave?" the voice purred. "_Generosity_… now that doesn't look like something you'd normally compute."

More data continued scrolling down. Even for a Cybertronian, it would have looked like the organized display of every cycle's routine, but the only organic brain on the planet had monitored those procedures long enough to detect the anomaly.

"Especially now when Energon is scarce…" he said absent-mindedly, remembering the _other _anomaly he had detected, the one coming from the core of the planet itself. The exact count he kept of the days he had spent on that alien world was insignificant compared with its millions of years of existence, but still he had been there long enough to be certain that an event of incalculable proportions had occurred.

What was left of a flesh mouth smirked when a different light blinked on the console and the image of three female Autobots entering sublevel 56-B was displayed on the screen. "And it seems that Energon will be even scarcer after today… Breaching sublevel 56-B again, girls? I would have thought that Elita would be more creative than this."

He had gotten used to scenes like the one the monitor was displaying. On Earth, Energon raids were considered crimes. On Cybertron, they were the action of heroes. The line drawn between Decepticons and Autobots was rather ridiculous sometimes. He was certain that Shockwave agreed with him, maybe now more than ever.

"Underestimating me was your mistake, my purple friend," he said, watching how the femmes destroyed a squad of vigilance drones with a brutality that surprised him. "Your perfect logic failed when you forgot to consider dangers other than the ones provided by your own kind. And even there you made a mistake."

Massacre concluded, Chromia, Moonracer and Firestar secured the Energon, carrying as much as their alt modes allowed. They were oblivious to the camera zooming in on them, or to the satisfied expression of their observer.

He was no stranger to the brutality of the Decepticons, but seeing it for the first time wrapped in an Autobot insignia was proving to be very satisfying, the kind of pleasant thought that returned his mind to the shadow that was always hanging above his head.

"Starscream..."

Three years had passed since he had been dismembered and forgotten on an alien planet, three years that were fleeting for a Cybertronian, but for the hybrid creature they meant everything. Left aside like waste material, he had learned to become one with the shadows, one appendage of a planet that hadn't seen him born, and would certainly not see him die.

Another smirk formed, satisfaction mixing sweetly with anticipated revenge. Something had definitely happened, and it already smelled like success.

Starscream would pay.

* * *

><p>Elita-One was not even close to giving an approbatory look at the amount of Energon cubes that were piled one-on-top-of-the-other at the back of the room. That stack would be able to keep her and her team functional for another deca-cycle, but she wanted more. Ever since her vision had cleared, she had found herself wanting more.<p>

That was perhaps the reason why she didn't congratulate her soldiers as she always did after a successful raid.

"Good evening."

Three female Autobots turned around, pistols in hand. Elita-One barely moved her head, as uninterested in the newcomer as she was in the pitiful amount of Energon cubes.

"Doctor Arkeville," she said nonchalantly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

The half human-half cybernetic creature smirked, glancing from Elita-One to the rest of her team. "Oh, I think you know, my dearest Elita… But first, ladies, would you be so kind as to lower your weapons? I thought we had reached an agreement concerning our mutual right to exist."

The three females turned toward their leader, who gave them a quick nod. "We did, indeed, before the most recent turn of events. You are very brave, or very stupid to come here under these new circumstances, doctor."

"Please allow me to disagree with you. If we helped each other before, now more than ever we have the opportunity to strengthen our bonds."

Elita conceded the doctor another segment of her attention. She had always felt disgusted by Starscream's human toy, but he had proven to be a convenient acquaintance for obtaining valuable data about the locations of Shockwave's Energon storage rooms and the drones' shifts. In return, she had provided the doctor with the technology he needed to survive. It had been very fortunate for him that Shockwave had greatly underestimated the human's potential and left him aside to die.

But not Elita. She had always known the kind of vermin she was dealing with, but she had played by 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' rule and had benefitted from that bizarre association.

Elita sat on a nearby container, making her gun click. "You may forgive me, human, but I fail to recall how we can benefit from your friendship now that our ways have suffered a… slight alteration."

The doctor rolled his metallic chair towards the leader of the female Autobots, passing dangerously close to Chromia's feet, who seemed eager to crush him. Elita wouldn't have even flinched if such a thing had happened.

"Exactly," he said with that horrible voice of his. "Because our ways are now more alike than ever."

Moonracer half snorted, half laughed. Elita-One didn't know how she would have held the burden of leadership without Moonracer's sense of humour.

The pink Autobot raised her gun carelessly, aiming it very close to the human's figure.

"Your proposition," she ordered. "Spill it now. Social visits, as you know, have never been the forte of our relationship." She could see the doctor flinching, and she liked it.

"I want to return to Earth."

Elita sneered. "Haven't you always?"

"It's urgent this time. You said it yourself, we're facing entirely different circumstances… Have you, powerful Elita-One, spoken to Optimus Prime recently, by any chance?"

The name caused Elita's spark to skip a beat, even if the reaction was fleeting. It was not that she had forgotten about Optimus, she just had refused to think about him. The void he had left when he had fled Cybertron fifty thousand vorns ago had become bitterer every cycle. She could give it a name now.

However, she wasn't going to expose her hesitation in front of that inferior creature. "Communications to Earth are not an everycycle thing, as you well know. And even if they were, it's not your place to be involved in matters that only concern the Autobot army. I remember having asked you about your proposition, doctor. You've abused the hospitality of this base long enough, not to mention that I'm running out of patience."

"Polyhex," the disgusting creature said. "Darkmount, the Decepticon Headquarters, the Energon storages, not to mention the control of the Space Bridge… all for you, ladies. I think you'll agree with me that the time has come to take what's rightfully yours."

More than ever, Elita felt the urge to squash the vile doctor like the insect he was, but she stopped the impulse. The creature that stood there underestimating her should have been infuriating her, but instead he was amusing her.

"Well, well, would you believe me if I told you that such thoughts had already crossed my mind?" she said. "I just have one question: what role do you play in this scheme? Last time I checked, you were only a mere intermediary between us and Shockwave's intel, which, I should say, we could have obtained ourselves."

The only organic eye of the human narrowed, making the Autobot enjoy the moment even more. "You could have indeed, but timing is the issue," he said, almost hissing the words. "No more cards up our sleeves, Elita. You may think you have no use left for me, but I can still give you the means to take over Polyhex. All I want in return is to be sent to Earth, and not exactly on a round trip ticket."

"Starscream," Moonracer said, making the doctor glare at her. "It's always about Starscream." She laughed. "I would have thought you had gotten over your childish grudge. Actually, you should be thankful. If anything, he upgraded you."

"Where are your manners, Moonracer?" Elita said mockingly. "The good doctor here is offering us a deal… And I suppose, doctor, that you're not exactly talking about travelling empty handed?"

Doctor Arkeville's smirk returned immediately. "Now we're understanding each other, my dear. I must say that it's a pleasure dealing with you, with the _new _you."

Elita smirked, paying no more attention to the human creature. New goals and possibilities were intertwining in her mind. She had never pictured herself in a position of power, and yet her fate had thrown her into one, even though she saw commanding the female Autobots as a responsibility rather than an honour. Now things had changed; the Universe was expanding right before her optics and so were her ambitions. She could picture Polyhex at her feet, her subordinates multiplying long beyond dreams she never had…

Only she wasn't thinking about Polyhex anymore.

She was thinking about Cybertron.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>I always wondered what happened with Doctor Arkeville. He was just left aside on Cybertron, a rich, dark character wasted. Well, here we have him back, and you can be sure that he will have a lot of importance in this story.<em>

_Many thanks for reading. Please review if you liked :o)_


	8. Where instinct lies

_Hello everybody! It's been a while…_

_And completely my bad, I accept it. I've been busy as hell, but what the heck, there's no excuse to leave aside the fandom I love so much just because days have only twenty four hours. _

_So here you have, an update for one of the stories that I was really looking forward to continue. Good news is that there will be more from where this came from. As I post this, I have next chapter almost done._

_As always, I want to deeply thank and hug my dear friend iratepirate for making time in her agenda to revise my grammar._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

**Where instinct lies**

_Cybertron, City-state of Rodion, fifty four thousand vorns ago._

The white light dimmed, leaving the alley in partial darkness and signaling the beginning of the fifth shift of the cycle. There were worlds – organic worlds – where light changed according to the planet's rotation around its suns, but on Cybertron all the artificial light system provided was a mere schedule. Night, as carbon-based creatures would have called it, meant nothing but energy saving in a word populated by machines.

Orion Pax shifted uneasily. He had been captain of the Rodion Police for almost two deca-cycles, but this was the first time he and his squad had been sent to the streets. He had no hesitation about his mission, but he would have preferred to be sitting comfortably in his work station rather than hidden within the morphing shadows that indicated the end of another cycle on Cybertron.

_Let it finish as a peaceful cycle, _he prayed silently.

He turned to his left, where the two hunched figures waited for his orders. Springarm and Whirl had proved to be effective elements during their time under his command, although Springarm seemed a little too obsessed with capturing criminals, an activity that was not common in a sector which exemplified the peace and prosperity of an age that the Senate had had the good judgment of naming 'Golden'.

At the rear, his immobile shadow merged with the trash container beside him, Wheelarch also waited. Ever since he had started to climb the ladder in the Rodion Police, Orion had realized that there would always be mechs who wouldn't look at him with good optics; Wheelarch was one of them. Orion had always known that the young guard wasn't fond of him, but the arguments and the times in which Wheelarch defied his authority were starting to become frequent enough to challenge his patience.

The light dimmed even more, almost dying, although this time it was not the system's doing. Sentient hands were behind it, the same hands that were breaking through the security codes of the refinery and relied on darkness to cover their actions.

A sound to his right made him turn his attention to the youngest member of his squad. Bumblebee was still a cadet and, as such, he was eager for anything that wasn't desk work. It came with youth, Orion thought, the excitement of holding weapons instead of datapads. In the elder officer's opinion, such excitement fitted better with fiction than with reality.

"Are we going inside now?" Bumblebee said, his fingers trembling slightly around the gun he was holding.

"Not until the first generator is breached," Orion told him, looking at the weapon. "You may want to be careful with that. Violent repression is not intended for this mission."

"Unless it's strictly necessary, I know…" Bumblebee said, looking as young as he was. "I just want to be ready. You never know with guys like these."

"We're facing minor thieves, Bumblebee. I don't think they'll even be armed."

Another breem went by, and the street received no further intrusions than the cleaning drones. Orion noticed that there were new models, not the usual, old-fashioned machines that were controlled by the workers at the Rodion Cleaning Station. Unlike their predecessors, the new drones seemed to have been produced in mass, both their design and movements the same.

_Automation_. It seemed to be the most pronounced word those days. The Senate had been thorough to explain the advantages of introducing non-sentient machines to improve the efficiency levels in the working-class sectors, but some Cybertronians didn't understand it that way. Orion had heard that opposition had begun to arise, particularly from the miners.

However, what was happening inside the refinery didn't have anything to do with automation. A crime was in progress, one that was being committed by mechs who knew exactly what they were doing. Even the word was strange; in a world where order and logic reigned, it was difficult to think about felony.

Orion didn't move until his energy reader gave him the peak he was waiting for. It was official: the robbery had started.

He sent a silent pulse to his squad and he headed towards the back entrance. Orion didn't like darkness, but it provided a welcome cover. Springarm and Wheelarch moved behind him, one willingly and the other reluctantly, but the feeling was the same. Orion was the head of the mission, and success or failure would depend solely on him.

Bumblebee and Whirl stayed in their position, guarding the rear in case the suspects tried to flee.

* * *

><p><em>Automation.<em>

There was the word again, floating in the air and mixing with the smoke and the debris, claiming a place amongst the shadows that darkened the esplanade.

"It's all about automation!"

The cry, intended to shock, did nothing but reverberate against the energy generators. Still, Orion Pax could notice the desperation in the voice.

He had heard the words, but disregarded them. It wasn't his job to judge, but to act. Peace had been disturbed, and he knew he had to act by the books. He was the captain of the Rodion Police and peace was his ultimate goal. His hand didn't shake, opposite to the one pointing the trembling gun towards his chest.

"Give up your weapon and surrender," Orion said for the second time. He decided there wouldn't be a third.

The situation itself was ridiculous. His squad had already secured the remaining suspects on the other side of the refinery, even had them restrained with stasis cuffs to prevent them from transforming.

But one of them stayed on his feet, the black robot that was hunched behind the debris that Orion's rifle had made from what once had been a wall.

"You're doing this to your people, you know?" the mech shouted to him. "It's not me you should be arresting!"

Orion fired, effective as he had been taught to be. The mech cried in pain and dropped his gun, falling to his knees and holding his injured hand. Orion didn't find any satisfaction in his accurate shot; had it been his choice, he wouldn't have caused the suspect pain, but his position required fast actions in order to prevent further damage. The pain of one for the welfare of many… In theory, it was a fair exchange. It wasn't very often that he found himself in the middle of the battle between his ethics and his morality, but activating his rifle had always done the trick, the _very_ uncomfortable trick.

"Lie down and put your hands behind your head, citizen. You will be taken to a medical facility for repairs."

The mech continued groaning. Only when Orion approached he realized that the suspect was actually talking.

"You… with your shinny armor and your colored paintjobs… Do you ever know what it is to reach the bottom of your fuel tank?"

Orion didn't know where to place the sudden feeling of anger that irrupted in the core of his spark. It wasn't the first time he had dealt with criminals; simple words shouldn't have been able to trespass his armor. Maybe it was because the suspect was lying. In a time of abundance, how could a civilian talk like that? It was well known that empty fuel tanks were an impossibility in Cybertron's most prosperous age.

"Your masters…" the black robot raised his voice. "They're going to replace us, all of us… including you! It's all about automation!"

Orion didn't hear anymore. He just saw.

It didn't happen fast.

It just happened.

"Automa—!" the vocalizer functioned for the last time as the mech raised his uninjured hand.

He saw the device. Black within black, it could have gone unnoticed, but not to Orion Pax.

It wasn't his optics, or his sensors; it was his instinct that acted, guided by the prime directive that Orion had embedded into his own programming since he had been admitted into the Cybertronian Police.

_Protection of the innocent._

He followed the directive. Fire erupted from his rifle, hurting, but protecting all the innocents that weren't there and whose faces would always remain unknown.

The civilian was terminated before he could activate the bomb, his chest trespassed so cleanly that Orion hoped that he hadn't suffered at all.

He stayed before the broken figure as the barrel of his rifle kept smoking. No generators had been destroyed, no Energon leaks stained the floor, no crime would deprive the citizens of Rodion from refueling their tanks… The prime directive had been fulfilled; peace wouldn't be breached and all the anonymous innocents would remain protected.

He noticed the shadows on the wall before they arrived to continue the protocol. Whirl moved to his side whilst Wheelarch passed him and walked towards the deactivated mech.

"Should I notify the Council, Captain?" Whirl asked him, as coldly as a simple procedure demanded.

"Negative," Orion said. "I will comm Ultra Magnus. The suspect was in possession of forbidden explosives. It's his department's jurisdiction."

Orion Pax would never forget the smirk on Wheelarch's face plates as he lifted the immobile hand, more gray than black now, the fingers holding the object tightly.

"Heh," Wheelarch said. "Bomb? I didn't know they manufactured them this way."

Orion frowned and approached the scene of his first kill. There was, indeed, nothing there that resembled a bomb. The small object within the dead mech's hand was a small holo-frame, featuring his image and the one of another robot, probably his consort.

But that's not what caught the attention of Orion Pax. It was the sparking hole in the black chest plates, which featured, indeed, an almost empty fuel tank.

* * *

><p><em>Earth, the present.<em>

Curiously, it wasn't the alteration in his programming, or the new twists such alteration would bring to their war; not even Optimus Prime himself caught Megatron's attention as he stared at the blue and red form creating clouds of dust in the distance.

It was the wind against his armor, intangible but also forgiving, providing him the first caress of his life, as if Megatron hadn't damaged that planet enough already. If Earth had no grudges against him, maybe it wasn't naïve to think that there was hope left.

As the invisible touch continued to embrace him, Megatron couldn't avoid thinking that, if his senses were to remain open from that moment on, perhaps he would start noticing things he had ignored so blatantly in his immediate past.

But the one thing he couldn't ignore anymore was the solitary semi truck that changed shape just some mechano-meters away from him. Megatron didn't assume a defensive stance, though; he knew Optimus Prime enough to realize that violence wouldn't be his enemy's primary intention during the meeting to come. There were things that not even a radical rerouting of programming could change and, if anything, Optimus Prime had always been a mech with manners.

Megatron was also certain that Prime would ignore the wind.

"Megatron," his archenemy greeted him as the sand of the desert continued dancing between his transformation seams. "You came alone."

"As we agreed," Megatron replied, taking as a good omen the fact that Optimus had honored their agreement of meeting in a neutral place without any support from their troops. It was still too early to analyze the changes in his rival's programming, but it was gratifying to see that some things remained the same.

"Not that I doubted it. You always had a way with honor. Unique, if I have to give it a name… I have to confess that I'm very curious to see how much you have changed in that department. Or is it _enhanced_ the word I'm looking for?"

So Optimus was more daring, Megatron wasn't surprised about that. However, the brand new arrogance emanating from the Autobot leader ignited more than one alert in the former gladiator's systems.

"You'll tell me," Megatron calmly replied, "as I'm counting that words will be the only thing we'll exchange today."

"But of course. Fighting you is no longer my main concern."

"I'm glad that we agree on something. Not that we did it a lot in the past."

"That's a part of our relationship that I'm hoping will change from now on."

Megatron chose to ignore the sharp edge on Optimus' words. "I have assembled a team to find out what happened to our programming."

"You did? That's not what I would normally associate with your nature…" Prime said absent-mindedly. "I, on the other hand, decided to disregard the issue. Just because we were built to live for eons doesn't mean that we can afford to waste time."

Megatron crossed his arms and looked at his rival cautiously. "Since when does researching a change of incalculable proportions in our programming considered a waste of time? We're talking about the most important event in the history of Cybertron, comparable only to the creation of our race."

"Since said change did nothing but improve us, making us reach the peak of our evolution," Optimus stated, ignoring Megatron's last statement. "Or tell me, are you one to consider this twist of events unfortunate?"

Megatron spared himself of answering the obvious. He knew what he was feeling, hence he could imagine Optimus computing a similar satisfaction. Similar, but for all the opposite reasons. It was proving to be very hard seeing his old self reflected in his sworn enemy.

"I didn't think so…" Optimus said, laughing softly. "Look, Megatron, I'm not here to talk about what happened, and I don't mean only the recent events but the thousands of vorns in which we have made war to each other without achieving anything but the decimation of our kind. I'm here to talk about the future. Our new programming doesn't have to mean that we only switch places around the table. I have my sight set on a new beginning between us."

Megatron couldn't avoid grimacing. "Was destroying that human settlement your way to detonate this new beginning of yours? Was it sending your troops to track your human allies down to kill them? I'd say your actions speak better than your words, Prime."

The dark glee in Prime's optics didn't go unnoticed. "What did I do, Megatron, that you haven't done in the past?"

_Kaon, Iacon, Altihex… _The names surfaced infinite and accusatory, none of them forgotten, none of them forgiven. But Megatron didn't falter. The one thing he had known ever since his optics had opened to the truth was that every astroklik of his new life would be a confrontation, a trial in which he would play both judge and accused. It was yet to known what the final verdict would be.

"My former beliefs are no more", he said gravely.

"That doesn't change your actions."

Megatron fixed two very severe optics on his enemy. "Prime, you killed hundreds of humans, the same humans you would have given your life to protect just some breems ago."

Optimus Prime had worn a battle mask as long as Megatron could remember, and yet he could tell the Autobot leader was smirking. Two sworn enemies got to know each other better than two lovers.

"Hardly a sin, don't you agree?"

Megatron felt it again, the burning wave of guilt. But he welcomed it; it would always remind him of who he had been and who he was now.

"I never exterminated civilians without a reason. You, on the other hand, had nothing but amusement in your mind when you did it."

Optimus chuckled. "Don't forget about the pleasure. I dare you to deny it, Megatron. Deny that you know exactly what I felt. Had I known the power of having life and death dangling between my hands, I would have exercised it a long time ago."

"You swore to protect the inhabitants of this planet! I almost destroyed you many times for that reason," Megatron said, not realizing that he had taken one step forward. He knew fury well; it had been his fuel most of his life.

The shortening distance didn't go unnoticed, but Optimus Prime didn't move. "Yes, too many times… the same times I put this inferior alien race before my own, but I can assure you that it won't happen again. I have freed myself from the guilt that was consuming me, a guilt that I imposed on myself and all my soldiers."

Yes, guilt… What was previously one of Megatron's favorite weapons was attacking what he considered the weakest side of Optimus Prime. The Autobot leader had always blamed himself for taking the Cybertronian war to Earth, and that had clouded his judgment, or at least that was what Megatron used to believe. But now that the guilt was gone, there was nothing left but a very rancorous Optimus Prime, one that would make sure to claim his share of revenge.

"I won't let you unleash your madness against this world", Megatron said, raising one fist. "I did that myself more than enough." Once again, he had moved instinctively. He wondered how hard it would be to eradicate violence from his nature.

Optimus didn't seem impressed. "Careful, Megatron… You don't want to become what I was. Believe me, it's not a place you want to be."

"The one place I don't want to be in is where you're currently standing, Prime. I know it too well."

"Another reason why we should leave these gray areas behind us," Optimus said; this time it was he who took the step forward. "Let's end our war right now, Megatron. There's no limit to what we can achieve together. Just say the word."

Megatron shook his head. "The programming incident made you more delusional than I thought if you really expect me to go back to my mistaken ways."

"Mistaken?" Optimus seemed surprised. "It's curious. I had anticipated your answer, and yet it amazes me. I thought that only our personality component had been rerouted, not our intelligence and common sense. We are superior life forms, it's only right that we rule."

It was more than bizarre to hear his own words coming from Optimus Prime's vocalizer, not to mention infuriating. Had he too sounded like a stupid monster before?

"Strange words for a mech who privileged freedom beyond his own life. What happened to you, Prime? Were you so weak that you couldn't fight your own programming?"

"You should ask yourself the same question, Megatron."

"Seeing my mistakes is no weakness. You, on the other hand, talk about evolution but the only thing you're doing is moving backwards. Are your cerebro-shells so clouded that you can't see it? There's no logic in your words, no purpose. I used to think that a big goal justified the use of unethical ways, but I was wrong. The devastation you pretend is absurd."

The look in Optimus Prime's optics was one that Megatron had never seen before. More than a mirror, it was the living proof that the Universe hadn't rotated; it was an entirely new Universe.

"I don't pretend to do anything that you haven't tried before. This planet has enough energy sources to power Cybertron for millennia and to turn it into a war station, the war station _you_ dreamed about, Megatron. As for the humans, we can keep a few thousand of them alive, if only to satisfy your sudden sentimentalism. Besides, as you well know, they can prove to be useful as slaves."

It was frustrating, and also painful. There was nothing of his old enemy inside that stranger standing before him. Megatron knew that there was no way he would be able to make Optimus understand. He was deaf to reason, sick with power and ambition, just as Megatron had been.

"It was my ambition that took us here" he said, mirroring his thoughts. "My obsession for power took Cybertron to the edge of destruction."

"Now it's you who's being foolish, old friend, or immensely unfair," the Autobot leader said. "I used to think of you as a tyrant, but now I see that you were a liberator. The Autobot regime was defective; you did the right thing by starting your insurrection."

Megatron sneered. "A liberator… I see that not only has your programming been corrupted, but also your judgment. I may have started this war with the best intentions, but I continued it with the worst. I lost sight of what I originally intended."

"Hesitation was your only mistake, Megatron. You never dared to give the kill shot, and Primus knows you had many opportunities to do so."

Megatron clenched his fists, impotence and acceptance making an awkward mix. It was true. He had prolonged the war pointlessly, stepping over logic and the promises of justice and victory he had made to his followers. Formerly he had associated that side of him with weakness, but now he acknowledged it as the innocent miner he had once been, the one who dreamed of justice but would have never dared to disrespect life. That miner had been his first victim.

He had almost forgotten that Optimus was there when he heard him speak again.

"And me?" Prime said, not without a bizarre tidbit of nostalgia. "I was losing the war because I had already been half-beaten by my ethical code. My words and actions were empty, a useless stereotype… I can see it now, and every single one of my Autobots knew it too."

"Your soldiers followed you because they believed in you," Megatron said with a hoarse voice. "Are you going to lead them now to their own destruction, turn them into the same monsters they swore to fight?"

Optimus remained silent for a moment, making Megatron embrace something that felt a little like hope.

"I killed a civilian once, some insignificant thief," Prime finally said. "In the beginning I thought I was shocked because I had taken an innocent life, but now I have the clarity of mind to admit that my guilt was a burden I imposed on myself to punish me for something that _had_ to be wrong. The truth is that I felt nothing, absolutely nothing at all. My former ethical code was something I forced into my programming because it was the right way to think, but I never wanted it, ever less chose it. When I was selected as Prime I was forced to take that code to the extreme, and suddenly it became everything I was. Now I have been released from it."

Megatron realized that the rerouting of his programming had altered most, if not all, of his perception, but even before he had known that Optimus Prime was not the pure, perfect fighter that the Autobot propaganda had always struggled to sell. Megatron had always known that his archenemy had become what the Autobots wanted him to become, what Cybertron had needed. His true face was something that only Megatron had had the insight to see.

Now he wished he hadn't.

"Do you remember your first kill, Megatron?"

The question made the miner surface again. "How could I forget it?" he said gravely. He still remembered the vital fluid on his hands, the crushed head of the mech who had had the misfortune of standing in the way of the desperation he had mistaken for justice. There had been another way – there was always another way – but he had chosen the easy one and stayed there.

Optimus laughed. "See? I was indifferent toward my first kill, and you were disgusted by yours… Who knows? This programming incident may not have done anything but return us to our true selves. Were our sparks ever this pure, I ask you? I was, in the end, serving a tyrannical regime, and you started your revolution looking for justice. We didn't choose what we became; we were dragged by the circumstances around us until they finally engulfed us."

Megatron couldn't agree more, but the same words had a completely different meaning to him. He had begun, indeed, as a liberator, but his ways had twisted drastically along the road, as Starscream had pointed out many times. Now, with his programming free from his former blindness, guilt and shame had reappeared, just like the time he had made his first kill. But now they also meant that there was an entire new road for him to travel, and hope was on that road. How could Prime not see it? It was frustrating. How many times had Prime felt exactly that way, frustrated because Megatron hadn't been able to understand that the respect of freedom and life was the most sacred goal of all? Compared to that, any war was pitiful.

It almost felt like a hit when he saw the blue hand extend towards him.

"Join me, brother," Optimus told him. "The time has come to take our destinies into our own hands. No more serving a code imposed by expectations that are not ours, no more being what others expect us to be. We were created as gods, foreign to sickness and decay, our bodies and minds artificially developed to surpass the dictations of organic life. We were built to rule, Megatron."

When he had commed Prime just a few breems ago, they had both agreed to meet in peace. Now, as he felt his optics narrowing, Megatron lamented the promise he had made and the invisible gears that forced him to respect that promise. He had been a miner, but he was a warrior too.

One kill, just one more kill, and everything would be over. The war, the carnage, the latent threat over the entire Universe… all he had to do was break his word and attack Optimus Prime one last time, take away his life and the danger he represented for everything the Autobot leader had protected before. Megatron had the power to do it, but he didn't dare to take that final step and return to what he knew was wrong. For the first time, he understood what Prime had meant when he said that his place was not an easy one to stand on.

"Never," he heard himself saying.

"Everything has happened so fast, I can understand that," Optimus Prime said, lowering his hand. "That's why I'm going to give you some time to reconsider."

Megatron's hands formed fists, never so impotent. Once again he longed for the Decepticon he had been not so many breems ago, the one who was thirsty for the vital fluid of his most hated enemy. That Decepticon wouldn't have had any problem in breaking a promise.

"Don't keep me waiting too long, though," Prime's voice continued banging inside his head. "Who knows? I may get bored and continue the _absurd _destruction you talked about. Are you ready to fill my position, Megatron? Do you feel capable of protecting every single human on this planet if I decide to—"

The pressure under his fingers didn't come as a surprise. It had been, after all, the most important part of Megatron's nature. It was the instinct he had imposed on himself the very first day he made his first kill, the very day he killed the miner he had once been.

Prime laughed, evilness deforming his voice in a way that perhaps would have shocked Megatron had his hand not been firmly positioned on his rival's neck. The Decepticon had lost his cold hunger for destruction, but he still had his strength, overwhelmingly focused on protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. All he had to do was tighten his grip, all he had to do was crush, pierce, get into that armor and destroy the life force that once had been pure.

_Just one life, just one more life... Doesn't the means justify the way?_

"Ah, Megatron… so there you are! I'm so glad to see you back!" Prime kept laughing, not even bothering to fight back. "Does this mean you have overcome your weakness and that you'll join me on this side of the board? I could really use your expertise."

Megatron tightened his grip and narrowed his optics before releasing Optimus, as if he were touching something disgusting.

"Is this a game to you?" he almost roared. "Beware, Prime. You may think you are omnipotent now that you are above ethics, but you're aiming only for ashes. Your lust for power is an illusion that won't do anything but destroy you. You think you want this, but you're acting against everything you are and everything you stand for. Stop now before you regret it."

Prime's head trembled as his sinister chuckle continued. "I'm not the only one who's acting against his nature, it seems… I'm not going back, Megatron. Programming involved or not, I'm the one who makes the calls now."

"Then have in mind that I won't hesitate in doing whatever it takes to stop you."

"Then do it!" Optimus said, removing his face mask with his hand so brutally that he ripped it in two. "I stand here before you, alone and unarmed. Destroy me!"

Megatron hesitated, not because of Prime's words, but because of his face. That was a face that had never known mercy. That was the face of a monster.

The gaze that Optimus fixed on Megatron's fusion canon was almost lecherous. "You carry one of the most destructive weapons that Cybertronian technology ever created… Do you still have the struts to use it, Megatron? Then use it on me! Save your precious humans and all the ridiculous ideals you claim to defend!"

"Trying to provoke a beast that no longer exists within me just proves how lost you are, Prime." This time, Megatron didn't even make the call to the Decepticon he had been. Redemption wasn't to be found within the core of senseless brutality.

Autobot and Decepticon looked at each other for long astro-kliks. Finally, Prime snorted and returned the mask to his face. The crack in the middle gave him a permanent smirk that was very disturbing to see.

"Was your personality component reprogrammed, Megatron, or was it your courage? Where is my great enemy, the one who fought me in all those magnificent battles?"

"Within you, Prime," Megatron said calmly. "Your enemy lies within you."

Optimus' smirk vanished, Megatron was sure. Not even the grotesque imitation on his face mask reflected anything but hate.

"I promised you a peaceful outcome for this day and I will keep my word," Prime hissed. "Return to me when you have an answer for my proposition."

That's all Prime said before transforming and once again raising a cloud of dust within the terrestrial landscape he had once loved.

Megatron remained standing until his enemy was nothing more than a small dot on the horizon.

The wind kept blowing around him, indifferent.

_To be continued._

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><p><em>If you have read IDW's comics, you certainly noticed that I took some elements from there, such as Orion Pax being captain of the Rodion Police, and the names of his subordinates. Don't worry if you're not familiar with this series. I used the characters only for the purpose of this flashback and they won't have any other relevance in the story – aside from Bumblebee, of course. <em>

_I also borrowed the automation reference. If you guys remember, that was what detonated the revolt in which Megatron killed a guard who had slaughtered one of his fellow miners. He acted guided by impulse and regretted it immediately, because there was a time in which Megatron was a dreamer and a pacifist who liked poetry. Bizarre… but lovely in a way. I'm on the process of starting a fic that will happen precisely in those times, but that's another story and I won't post it until I finish at least one of my ongoing fics. I learned my lesson well._

_Oki, that's it for today. See you guys soon. As I said, I have updates for this – and more of my neglected fics – in progress, so this time I can promise you frequent updates and honor my word. Please remember to let me know your comments :o)_


	9. There's a little good guy hidden

_I remember having promised a fast update, and here it is. _

_Not much to say about this chapter, only that it won't hurt if you remember a certain scene of the G1 episode 'Megatron's Master Plan' part 2._

_Many thanks to iratepirate for revising my grammar. She didn't find so many mistakes this time! Could it be that my English is getting better? 0_o_

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**There's a little good guy hidden in every Seeker's spark**

"I can't confirm anything before running the proper tests, but I'd say it was the unique combination of minerals, especially the high levels of gypsum, which shielded my personality component from the massive reprogramming," Skyfire said, doing his best to focus. He couldn't remember any other time in which trying to think clearly had hurt so much.

And he didn't seem to be the only one with concentration problems. Starscream had been tapping his fingers on the console for so many astro-kliks now that Skyfire had stopped counting.

"That and the extreme temperature must have… Starscream?" Skyfire finally gave up. It was clear that his friend's mind was very, very far away from there. To be specific, in the Oregon High Desert.

"I should have gone with him", Starscream said, more to himself than to Skyfire. "It wouldn't have been the first time I went against his orders… It's our tradition, actually. Why the slag did I chose to play honorably this time?"

_Because your programming changed, as it did for everyone else except for me… _Skyfire sighed and looked at the map displayed on the big monitor before them. "Megatron and Optimus Prime agreed they would meet in peace."

Starscream punched the palm of his hand, perhaps a little too hard. "Prime is not to be trusted! Slag, I should have followed Megatron at least! He wouldn't have noticed me!"

His outburst had a reaction. At the back of the room, the three humans turned to look at him, only to return to their saddened faces immediately. Sparkplug's arrival had brought some light to the eyes of Spike, but the news about the assassination of Chip's parents had confirmed that the nightmare was only starting.

Starscream seemed to notice the effect of his loud voice because he decreased the level of his vocalizer immediately and dropped himself onto his chair. "I… am sorry, Skyfire. I forgot that your human friends are in distress right now. It's just that I…"

"I'm sure Megatron will be fine," Skyfire said when Starscream failed to continue. "He's very powerful. I don't think Optimus Prime will have an easy time if he decides to ambush him. Besides, you said that Soundwave made sure that their meeting would have no unwanted visitors."

To their left, Soundwave looked like a statue. His gaze was also fixed on the big monitor, only that he didn't look distressed. He seemed to not even notice the presence of everyone else in the room. Skyfire wondered if what the Autobots used to say was true, that Soundwave was unable to feel any emotions at all, except for sadism. Was the opposite of sadism the only emotion running through that mysterious processor now, then?

Starscream rested his forehead on his hand, obviously not sharing Skyfire's thoughts. "Yes, Soundwave sent some spy probes, just in case Prime decided to honor his new programming… But slag, I still think I should have gone with Megatron. I'm his Second-in-Command. It's my duty to keep the leader of the Decepticons safe."

It was curious. When Skyfire awakened from his four million year stasis nap, he had been certain that there was an immense, sick rivalry between Megatron and Starscream. He wondered how much, exactly, his best friend had changed since then. From the presumptuous and brutally-honest young Seeker that Skyfire had met so many vorns ago, Starscream had turned into a cruel and ambitious mech. What had he become now?

"Starscream… Forgive me if I'm prying, but it didn't look like you cared too much about Megatron in the past, but quite the opposite. Is this change of spark a result of the rerouting of your programming alone?"

"It would seem like it, wouldn't it?" Starscream said, not able to stop a smirk from forming. "But no… I have to admit that such is not the case. As much as Megatron and I have always had a very… _peculiar_ relationship, I would have never dared to terminate the old bucket head. And believe me, I had many chances… Just don't tell him I said this, because I'll deny it."

Skyfire frowned. He had been naïve enough to see Starscream's metamorphosis as a simple change from goodness to evilness, and now back to the good way again. But it had to be much, much more complicated than that. Many things had happened during those four million years in which he had been offline, many more than Skyfire dared to consider. The change of spark in every Cybertronian couldn't be considered a simple 180 degree rotation alone. There was a long way ahead to find out exactly what had happened.

"So, the crystals' composition, you were saying," Starscream said, trying to return to their previous conversation. "I must say that I'm very glad that you were inside those caves the moment the incident happened. I wouldn't have liked to face you as an enemy under these circumstances."

"You didn't seem to have problems before," Skyfire couldn't avoid saying. Rancor, there it was again, in small amount but staining his spark. Starscream had made his decision back then; he had put his ambition before everything else, including their past friendship.

The look that Starscream gave him was one of hurt. "You may not believe me, Skyfire, but trying to kill you when you were reactivated is something I regretted. And no, it's not my new programming talking. It's me. I was very angry back then, being so sure that you had betrayed me, when all this time it was the other way around… I guess a simple apology would sound ridiculous at this point."

"There's no need to—" Skyfire interrupted himself when he noticed the Seeker's grimace of suffering. "Are you all right, Starscream?"

"Yes, don't worry. My processor is having a hard time assimilating all the changes in my personality component. I think I may have suffered it more drastically than the others."

_Yes, because you were hiding much more than them. _Skyfire would have liked to comfort Starscream, as he had done in the past every time the young Seeker had crashed against the obstacles of a bureaucracy harder than triple-strength durabyllium-steel. But now Starscream was facing the biggest challenge of his life, and his demons were only his to confront. He had it clear that this Starscream was not the same one he had met, that this Starscream had gone through a long life of violence and hatred. Returning to innocence wouldn't be easy, especially now that the burden of his sins were tormenting him.

"Your human friends," Starscream said, somewhat uncomfortable with the awkward moment, "is there something I can do for them? I'm aware how empty this sounds; we said we would protect them, and yet…"

Skyfire shook his head slightly. "You did more than enough when you saved us from the Aerialbots. What happened to Chip's makers wasn't your or the Decepticons' fault. You can't be there all the time."

Starscream sent another look at the humans. "You did… The Autobots, I mean… before all this happened. Besides protecting this planet from us, you always managed to keep your human allies safe. We could never terminate any of them."

"Maybe because deep inside you didn't want to do it."

"Perhaps… It's hard to think about that right now. Everything about my past seems so distant." Starscream frowned, his concern making him look like a newly assembled robot who was barely discovering what life was. Maybe that was exactly what had happened; Starscream and the Decepticons had awoken to discover a new Universe, one they had harmed deeply in the past, the same one they had vowed to protect now. Skyfire could only pray to Primus that they would be strong enough to stop whatever the Autobots had awakened to.

* * *

><p>Thrust had never been very fond of the Constructicons. They were far too arrogant and snobbish for his taste, not to mention that they could get away with anything they wanted because they were the only engineers in the base.<p>

It was funny how things changed, though, not to mention perceptions. Maybe it was his new programming, but as Thrust saw the Constructicons making whatever it was at one of the workstations, he had to admit that they were doing a pretty good job adapting the Nemesis' facilities for the humans' use.

Strangely, the small carbon-based creatures didn't seem very impressed, and had even reacted with distrust when Scrapper had scanned them to have a precise idea about their needs in areas like temperature and fuel.

Thrust had just shrugged his shoulders. He was no engineer, and there was no further use for him in the Command Centre, so after finishing delivering his report to Soundwave he left in search for better company, namely Ramjet and Dirge.

As a member of a trine – and as a member of a trine that actually _liked _his wingmates – loneliness wasn't his thing. That's why it called his attention when he saw one of the humans, the one that used a wheeled chair to mobilize, alone in one of the rooms adjacent to the Command Centre.

Normally, Thrust wouldn't have cared, but having a human in his base and the fact that what he qualified as "normal" was no more, made him wonder why the human was alone when his companions were so close.

However, that was not what he asked when he entered the room.

"Your optical sensors are leaking fluid, soft-skin. Why?"

The human startled, but only a little. He looked as if a wall had just collapsed on him, or as if Ramjet had used him for juggling in the best of cases, a practice that, as amusing as it had been a few solar cycles ago, it didn't look like a suitable scenario anymore.

"If you have a malfunction, Hook can fix it," Thrust continued, remembering that Hook had said more than once that he could fix anything. And it was true. More than a few times, Hook had kept Thrust and his wingmates away from terminal shutdown. Now that he thought about it, maybe it would be proper to say a word of gratitude to the snobbish Constructicon every once in a while.

The human, lost in his own thoughts, rubbed his red optics. "No, thank you… I'm fine."

It was obvious that the organic creature didn't feel comfortable in his presence. Thrust couldn't blame him; he remembered having seen that same human leaking optic fluid the day Thrust had shot Teletraan I, when the Decepticons had tricked the humans into thinking they were on their side and that the Autobots had turned evil. What would the word for that be now? _Ironic? _He would have to ask Dirge later; Dirge had always had a way with words.

"I'm sorry. Am I off limits?" the human spoke again, his voice a little less shaky this time. "It's not clear which parts of your base are forbidden to us. I… I just needed to be alone."

Thrust got to one knee. "You're not our prisoners. You can go anywhere around the base, I guess." _Except for the engine room; humans would probably melt in there._

The human flinched at Thrust's movement. He feared him, of course. How could it be different? The Decepticons hadn't done anything but harm humanity ever since they had been reactivated on Earth. That group of natives in particular had been the main target only because of their association with the Autobots, the same association that had cost the lives of two of the members of that human's trine, if his sub-group could be called as such. Regardless of his new programming, Thrust would never know what to do if one – or worse, two – of his wingmates were terminated. Life without Dirge and Ramjet – yes, _even_ Ramjet – was something he had chosen to not think about a long time ago, as much as it was a latent scenario when fighting a war.

"Is that a manifestation of sadness?" Thrust asked, pointing toward the young human's optics and proving that tact had never been his forte. "You leaked optic fluid when I shot Teletraan I too."

The flesh creature cleaned his optic visor and returned it to his face – not a very brilliant invention, Thrust thought, as simple glass definitely wouldn't protect the optic sensors in battles.

"Yes…" the human said with trembling voice. "That was because you had destroyed the only thing the Autobots had left behind."

Maybe an apology would be in order, but Thrust was really awkward when it came to those things, especially considering it would be a first for him.

"Yeah, and you called me pile of reject parts."

"Sorry about that…" A smile, small but relieving, formed on the flesh features. Thrust savored his little victory; for some reason, he didn't like the idea of that human suffering. Maybe it was because remembering the kind of slaghead he had been with him before was computing new, strong emotions in his processor.

Thrust grinned. "Never mind. I've been called much worse." Almost immediately, he recovered his serious expression. "I heard about your loss, soft-skin. You may find this hard to believe, but nobody in this base remains indifferent towards it. I also know that the Stunticons are very disturbed about what happened."

Sadness returned to the organic features. "They shouldn't. They saved Spike's dad, and many other people. Besides, it was… it was the Autobots who killed my parents."

It was obvious that it was very hard for the human to pronounce those words, but the expression on his face also indicated that he had accepted the situation, unlike his companions, who were still reluctant to consider the idea that the Decepticons were on their side now. Thrust understood that feeling; if Dirge and Ramjet suddenly turned against him, he would have a hard time just trying to understand why.

"You should go back to the Command Centre. Your friends must be wondering where you are, soft-skin."

The human looked at him, and for the first time Thrust thought that the small creature was looking at something more than the evil Decepticon in him.

"My friends call me Chip. You are Thrust, am I right?"

"Yeah, that's my denomination, at least the closest approximation in your language. But you can call me 'pile of reject parts'."

The human laughed a little. His suffering was still crystal clear, but there was also a small light of hope, another new sight for a Decepticon Seeker who hadn't known anything else in all his life but violence and ambition. He had the feeling that his life would be much more interesting from now on. The Universe had opened an endless set of possibilities before his optics, and he was more eager than ever to learn.

And frag, it felt so good to be… well, _good_.

_To be continued._

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><p><em>In case you didn't remember the scene, let me remind you about Thrust shooting Teletraan I and recapturing Chip after he escaped to the Ark when the Autobots had already been sent away – to the Sun, actually. One very cool episode. And yes, Chip called Thrust 'pile of reject parts', which made Thrust laugh.<em>

_Now, are you ready for a very important twist? I hope you are, because I have a bunch of surprises hidden under my sleeve. If you want the first, stay tuned for next chapter. I already wrote it, so expect it here shortly._

_Thanks for reading. Please let me know your opinions._


	10. Five faces of shame, part one

_Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you had lovely holidays, and that you are full of energy and positive feelings to face this newborn 2013. Don't forget to always have a cube of high grade in your fuel tanks ;o)_

_Okay, this is my first update of the year. The first of many, as I have a bunch of chapters already written for this and other of my stories. _

_This will be the first of a series of three chapters – title borrowed, of course, from the G1 episode 'Five faces of darkness' – that will address the important evolution some of the characters are going through after their reprogramming._

_Many thanks to my beta reader iratepirate for taking the time to revise this and the following chapter before going overseas. Luv ya, hun!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

**Five faces of shame**

**Part one**

**Motormaster**

He had always despised words made of cardboard, stepping over terms such as goodness or evilness the same way he would have done an enemy. Loyalty, might, courage… Those were words he understood, because they were spoken with actions. Vocalizers didn't hurt, weapons did. So did his fists, always practical and never without purpose.

His nemesis came in other shapes. Before and after his reprogramming, failure was the thing that disturbed him the most, his one, true nightmare. He had spent every cycle of his young life trying to keep himself and his team out of its reach, but every setback reminded him that the road ahead of him was still too long. Experience was a thing that didn't arrive fast enough.

Things had become worse when he suspected that his new missions would seek something different than his previous assignments. He had accepted the rerouting of his programming without question, but he also had doubts. He had no practice whatsoever in performing actions that could be qualified as benevolent or heroic. What the slag was he supposed to do now, when his new ethics forbid him to operate in his usual, violent ways? He had the right intentions, but at the same time his hands felt tied. He didn't have any clue how to be… whatever he was now.

He found the clarity of mind to admit that he would have welcomed Wildrider's insanity. Sometimes he envied his most erratic teammate and his unique ways to evade reality. Motormaster could have used some of that right now, when failure was torturing him more painfully than usual.

_"You may think you won, but that's hardly the case. You know those two humans you were looking for? We killed them right before you arrived. So yeah, enjoy your victory, Motormouth!"_

He clenched his fists when he remembered the battered buildings, the marred pavement, the human remains scattered over a battlefield that should never have been. They burned much more than the words Hot Shot had spat at him. Motormaster had to admit that he preferred the Protectobots before they turned into merciless murderers.

Breakdown had broken his shy posture for once and dared to tell him that he shouldn't feel that way, that they had saved many humans.

Yes, that may be true, but so was the fact that the Stunticons had failed in protecting the lives of the dozens that had ended up scattered across the pavement, innocent victims of the Protectobots' brutality. Motormaster had no quarrels with the outcome of a true battle, but what he had seen in that human city had nothing to do with honor. Without a logical goal, violence became pointless.

Arriving at his destination only increased his frustration. He had waited hours to make his move, not because of fear but because Megatron had had his hands full after returning from his meeting with Optimus Prime. But now, as the doors of the Command Centre opened before him, Motormaster wondered if there was something other than respect behind his motives. Was that what others called shame? Shame for having failed, shame for not having saved the two human lives he had been obliged to protect, shame for his own scratched hands, that had crushed so many of those innocent lives in the past…

He stayed under the threshold, shocked, uncertain of his next move. It took him two astro-kliks to recognize the robot sitting before the main computer, surrounded, as always, by his two closest lieutenants.

Megatron had removed his helmet and looked considerably younger, if not like an entirely different mech. His head was crowned with metal panels that hinted at his worker origins, except that the markings of his number of series and model had been long ago replaced by the ancient Cybertronian symbols of pride and strength. They were already worn out, making Motormaster suspect that they were as ancient as the war itself.

Starscream, standing beside his leader with Megatron's helmet in his hands, shot the newcomer a puzzled look. Soundwave, as always at the left side of Megatron, was a motionless statue who didn't detach his gaze from the computer's screen. It seemed that, previous to Motormaster's arrival, the three had been talking about some broadcast of the humans media, still displayed on the monitor.

"I… apologize for my intrusion, Lord Megatron," Motormaster said when he realized that his arrival, though not rejected, wasn't exactly expected either.

"Motormaster," Megatron responded from his throne, not moving an inch from his position before the screen. "What is it that you want?"

The Stunticon stepped forward and got to one knee, bowing his head. "I have come to face the consequences of my failure."

Was it punishment was he requesting, or forgiveness? Motormaster knew that mistakes could never be ignored, but in that moment he knew that disappointing his leader and creator was the one thing that could devastate him. That had always been his weakness, that and the constant fear of losing any of his teammates.

"Leave us," Megatron said to Starscream and Soundwave. To Motormaster's surprise, Starscream didn't object; he didn't even shoot Motormaster one of his famous murdering looks. He just smirked and left Megatron's helmet on the console, leaving the Command Centre with Soundwave as if their bitter rivalry had never existed.

"Get up." Motormaster heard Megatron's voice looming over him. "Being on your knees is not your place."

He did what Megatron said, if only for obedience, but he kept his gaze down. He was sure that his place was at the bottom of a melting pit.

"I heard that you saved many lives."

That's not that Motormaster expected to hear. Despite the shame he was feeling, he dared to raise his head.

"I failed in retrieving the two humans you commanded me to protect. I wait for my punishment, Lord Megatron."

Megatron didn't reply, but fixed on his creation a very profound stare. Motormaster would have preferred if Megatron had hit him.

Finally, Megatron spoke. "Is saving lives an assignment I usually give you, Motormaster?"

The powerful Stunticon commander never hesitated, but he did this time. What choice did he have, when he had been taken completely by surprise?

"I… uh…"

"You had never done it, and yet you did everything in your power to save the same human creatures that only cycles ago you wouldn't have had any problems crushing."

That was true. It was highly illogical, but also felt natural.

"It's the ones I couldn't save that trouble me."

Motormaster had always despised Breakdown for not standing the stares of others on him, but as Megatron penetrated every circuit of his body with his intense red eyes, Motormaster understood his paranoid teammate in a way he had never done before.

"What about the lives you took before? Did those trouble you?"

Motormaster clenched his fists. He remembered the times when he used to roll over the humans and their vehicles as if they were cockroaches. Now he would give everything to turn time back.

"They do now," he replied sincerely.

Megatron stood up. The spikes on his head scattered, one to each side and two pointing upwards, giving him the appearance of a king. His shadow seemed to agree, projecting itself over the wall until it reached the ceiling.

"Many humans have died because of our war, Motormaster, a war that both Decepticons and Autobots brought to Earth, the same war I didn't have the wisdom to stop. As the head of the Decepticons, I assume the responsibility of every innocent life we have taken in our unfair efforts to strip this planet of its energy resources."

That was technically true. As the commander of the Stunticons, Motormaster himself had always taken the blame for the mistakes of his teammates, but he was also fair enough to understand that they were sentient individuals and thus they made decisions that had nothing to do with their commander's orders. Washing his hands and leaving all the blame on Megatron's shoulders would be as unfair as it would be mistaken.

"I'm the only one to be blamed for my mistakes, Lord Megatron. The lives I have terminated were entirely my decision."

"As they were the ones you saved recently," Megatron said as he looked towards the screen, which displayed different terrestrial broadcasts at the same time. "Look at this and tell me what you see."

Motormaster had never been fond of the humans' television. His teammates, on the other hand, had become loyal followers of the so-called 'idiot box', so much that Motormaster had broken their screens several times – and heads too, he hated to admit now – in an effort to make them focus solely on the purpose of becoming the most powerful and effective Decepticon Gestalt team.

Still, he looked at the monitor with full attention. There was nothing there that he hadn't seen before; dramatized situations, ridiculous sports competitions, children's cartoons…

"Nothing," he said finally. "I see nothing."

Megatron nodded. "Exactly. It's been one solar cycle since the Autobots destroyed an entire civilian settlement and the Protectobots attacked a sector of the city state of Portland, and yet the news network remains silent. The humans have decided to keep the Autobots' doing away from the public eye."

"But how could they do that? The Autobots went berserk. Thousands of humans died in those attacks."

"And what are thousands on a planet of billions?" Megatron said, his eyes narrowing in self-inflicted pain. "I, better than anyone, know the benefits of keeping certain facts away from the public eye." Megatron walked toward the monitor, the spikes on his head glinting with the light coming from the screen. "As far as the humans are concerned, we are the authors of both massacres."

"What?! But it was the Autobots who killed all those creatures!"

"Information is power, Motormaster. Control the information and you will have half the battle won. Soundwave has detected intense activity in the highly codified channels of communication between the humans' rulers and the Ark. There's no doubt that the official version of the facts has been elaborated by the Autobots themselves."

"But there are survivors, Lord Megatron, witnesses who could prove the Autobots' wrong. How could the humans believe in their lies in that case?"

"Because of their trust," Megatron said blatantly. "The Autobots have gained the humans' trust over the years. They will believe anything that Prime tells them."

"So the blame of these two attacks is on us."

"And only on us. Optimus Prime has moved the battlefield of our war, and I have no doubt that his efforts will focus in turning us into an imminent threat that needs to be dealt immediately. After these two events, I have no doubt that the humans will agree."

Motormaster clenched his fists, his old acquaintance rage running through his fuel lines. The Autobots were lying, certainly in order to pressure Megatron into accepting Optimus Prime's offer of an alliance, but they were lying, and the Decepticons would be blamed for something they hadn't done… and yet, it was something not very far from the things they used to do in the past. Was that justice?

"Are you…" he dared to ask, "are you going to consider Optimus Prime's offer, Lord Megatron?"

Megatron turned toward him, the expression on his face recording itself in the Stunticon's processor as something he would never forget.

"There's nothing to consider. We stand for peace now, not for war. Remember it well and make sure you never forget it." Megatron walked towards his throne and put his hand on the back. "I created your team for a reason, and embedded you with a purpose born from my own ambition and blindness. That corroded your programming and that of your teammates. But today, more than ever, we stand as the living proof of how programming can change. I once promised you Earth as a reward for your loyalty. I offer it to you again now, not as a property, even less a war trophy, but as the place in which you were assembled and the place where you belong. Earth is yours, Motormaster, yours and the Stunticons' to protect."

The words hit hard, not because Motormaster hadn't thought about them after his programming change, but because deep inside he knew they were true. Revelations were in order that day, and he wondered if he hadn't felt that way all along. He had been built on Earth indeed, from a terrestrial vehicle… Earth was his home in a way that Cybertron would never be. Memories of warm sun over his hood, playful drops of rain running down his windows, the feeling of gravel beneath his wheels, children's laughter… That was Earth, that was his home.

"Motormaster, your sword."

He had it in his hands even before Megatron's voice had finished reverberating, offering it to his creator as he had offered it the first time he'd sworn his eternal loyalty.

"Destroy my throne."

He wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Ever since he had stepped into the Nemesis for the first time, Motormaster had seen in that throne a symbol of Megatron's power, no matter if it was occupied or not. That throne alone had turned every one of Starscream's attempts of takeover into a joke.

"Destroy it," Megatron repeated his order. "I have relied on fake symbols long enough… Do it!"

Motormaster felt the heat of his sword as he raised it. He wasn't sure about what he was going to do, he couldn't even compute it, but the feeling inside his spark was undeniable. Not only his programming, but everything he knew about war, about his cause and about his creator, was going to suffer an abysmal change, the kind of change that would take him far beyond his former dreams of simple power and conquest. He had begun to know himself.

He didn't hesitate when he shred the throne into pieces with the most powerful blow his sword had ever given.

The pieces were still flying when he felt Megatron's hand on his shoulder.

"A new era has begun for our kind, Motormaster, an era of peace and justice. The shadow of our mistakes will loom over us as an eternal torture, but also as a reminder of our new, true cause." Megatron took his helmet and put it on, stepping over his destroyed throne. "Being a warrior was not my function, but when I turned into one I found it easy to replace honor with violence. It is time to correct that mistake, it is time to make the Decepticons a faction of freedom, not of war."

It sounded good, even with all the odds playing against them. Once again, Motormaster remembered; memories that were not within his data banks, but in the very core of his frame. All those miles travelled under the terrestrial weather, the music resounding through speakers that he no longer had, the feeling of happiness and peace as he drove through one beautiful landscape after another…

"What about the Autobots?" he asked, giving voice to his major concern.

"We'll give them the chance they offered us many times and I refused to take," Megatron said, smirking at a small tube in his hands. "Programming can change, as we all witnessed, but it can also return to what it used to be. If the Autobots embrace their former Code of Honor again, there will be no more war between us."

Motormaster stared at the small tube that contained what appeared to be a sample of vital fuel. He didn't understand science and didn't plan to do it soon, but if Megatron said that peace would come, then that's the way it would be. In the meantime, he would make sure to honor his creator and protect Earth, his home.

* * *

><p>….<p>

**Ravage**

Motormaster would never know about the two narrowed optics that didn't leave his frame until he disappeared around the corner of the corridor.

The instinct of following had to be repressed, as many other things had been repressed lately. Would it become a habit? The predator said no, but the loyal Cassetticon knew he had his orders to follow.

One day, one complete solar cycle had passed since Ravage had hunted a prey. Not much for a Cybertronian whose life span was not determined by the passing of time, but an eternity for one whose existence was ruled by the instinct of the hunter.

Ravage showed his fangs, but he didn't emit any sound. There was no prey within his optical sensors' range, but his instinct was far from being dormant. Ever since the Decepticons had been turned into mockeries of the Autobots, his hunter side had been anything but anxious. He needed to stalk, he needed to shred, he needed to kill… and his own comrades-in-arms were starting to look like potential victims with every day.

He had felt the proximity of the danger because of his symbiotic bond with Soundwave. He had also felt the electro-magnetic barrier that his master produced to protect himself and his creations, but the thing approaching them had been faster. Soundwave had only managed to shield himself and Ravage; the rest of the Cassettes had been affected.

"'_Protect the humans', Soundwave?"_

Soundwave hadn't responded immediately. He was looking at Megatron holding the cooling tower that threatened to collapse over the oil rig workers, certainly as confused as Ravage was, but definitely not as shocked.

The command was mental, soft electromagnetic pulses directed to Ravage and Ravage only. Even in Cassette mode, the robotic feline understood the message and, reluctantly, returned to stasis. Still, he had time to listen to Soundwave's voice.

"Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, eject…" Keeping up appearances was a proper course of action, Ravage had to agree. There would be time to talk later.

The time didn't arrive fast enough, though. It seemed forever until Megatron left the base to meet with Optimus Prime, and Ravage finally had some astro-kliks to have a private conversation with his master.

"_Is this is a hallucination? A malfunction of my cerebral-shells?"_ Ravage transmitted through his mental bond with Soundwave. Loss of perception wasn't a probable scenario, but it was a slight possibility. Once, when Megatron had used the Heart of Cybertron to increase his power and had made the Autobots flee all by himself, Rumble and Frenzy had insisted that Ravage should celebrate too and had managed to make him drink more Energon than he could take. The episode had been very embarrassing, but also confusing. Ravage remembered having had hallucinations. Perhaps it was the same now, even though he hadn't touched high grade since that day of shame.

"Your processor functions optimally." Soundwave's voice took him out of the shameful memory.

"_Then what happened?"_

"Your siblings have been reprogrammed, as have the rest of the Decepticons."

"_Reprogrammed? How?"_

"Information remains unknown."

Soundwave had his suspicions, obviously, but Ravage knew his master well enough and refrained from asking questions whose answers Soundwave still didn't possess.

"_I request a course of action."_

"Your primary instructions remain the same."

Ravage growled. _"Pretending is not part of my personality component. You didn't build me for that, Soundwave."_

"Decepticons' ethics: severely rerouted. Their reaction towards the fact that we both remain unchanged: impossible to calculate with accuracy."

"_How would they react, by tearing us apart?"_ Ravage snorted. _"They have all become soft-sparked malfunctions. They behave more like Autobots."_ Worse than Autobots, actually. Ravage still felt the need to purge his fuel tanks when he remembered how Frenzy and Rumble had been talking about becoming superheroes just some breems ago. It was disgusting.

"Autobots: also affected by massive reprogramming."

Ravage's optics glowed with malice. _"Then they may be a more suitable option for offering our loyalties."_

The stare that Soundwave fixed on him wasn't severe, but it left no place for alternatives. "Megatron commands," the telepath simply said.

"_Megatron appears not to be suited for command anymore."_ It had been a painful thing for Ravage to say. He had always been one of Megatron's most loyal followers, but he was also a follower of logic.

"Conclusion not yet reached."

"_When will it be the right time then, Soundwave? When Megatron condemns us all by surrendering to the humans?"_

"There's no proof of such outcome. We wait. We observe."

"_And when do we act?"_

Soundwave stood from his seat. His red visor shined momentarily. "Judgment will come. Then we act."

Ravage growled, a sonorous, yet useless protest. As his master, he knew about patience; he had exercised it in the past when hunting prey or when spying on Autobots, both activities frequently being one in the same. But this was different; his orders were to remain motionless whilst he witnessed his cause and his purpose being turned into a joke. What was he supposed to do with these clowns who dared to use the Deception emblem? Laugh? All he knew was that he was not in the mood to laugh.

When Soundwave gave him the mental command to return to his chest compartment, Ravage did it reluctantly. His stasis was unrested because, for the first time in his life, he knew that the ones recharging beside him were everything, except his siblings.

His last thought before falling into stasis lock was that judgment day wouldn't arrive soon enough.

He was already craving for it.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>So Skyfire is not the only one who wasn't affected by Primus' idea of a joke. Are you picturing interesting consequences after this revelation? You'd do well by doing so.<em>

_I take it you remember the episode 'Microbots', in which Megatron used the Heart of Cybertron to increase his power and kick the Autobots' afts. After that, the Decepticons had a hell of a party._

_Speaking of Megatron, the idea of how he looks like without his helmet was taken from IDW's 'Megatron origin'. After reading that ultra-yummy comic, I discovered that magazines with adult material bored me to the core._

_Next, we'll take a trip to the Ark to see what's going on. Please let me know if you enjoyed the chapter. There is another one on the way, and it will be dark._


	11. Five faces of shame, part two

_And here it is, the second chapter of the 'Five faces of shame' series. _

_As promised, we are going back to the Ark. And, as promised, this will be dark._

_Many thanks to my dear friend iratepirate for beta reading this before going overseas, and many thanks to all my readers. Your support is priceless and keeps this story flowing._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

**Five faces of shame**

**Part two**

**Sunstreaker**

_Subject X-17… _That was his denomination now, or at least that was what the alien characters on the badge on his arm resembled. No name, not even a reminder of his mother's surname. He was her only son, and now, as he looked at his hands stained in red, he couldn't help but realize that his surname would end there. His mother had been the first one to be taken to the other side of the fence. She—

He raised his head when he heard the heavy, calm steps. There it was again, the red Autobot that transformed into a microscope. _Doctor Perceptor, _as the robot had politely introduced himself.

"Please move toward the fence."

He did as he was told, shaking legs taking him closer to what he knew would be certain death. He had heard the screams, back there in the coldness of his cell, he had heard the screams coming from the other side.

_Subject X-17… _he would die as such. No crypt, no coffin, no woman to mourn him.

The purple bars disappeared as soon as he began to feel their warmth on his skin. That's all he had had left, the heat of those energy beams or whatever they were. And now they had been taken away from him, just as his name.

He heard the mechanism going into motion again. This time he didn't recognize the moment in which the white gas started to engulf him. It had been cold the first time; now he just didn't feel it. Only the open wounds on the tips of his fingers complained, the freezing stuff getting inside of him and punishing his bones. At first, when he had been taken to the Autobot base, stripped and bathed with that gas, he had thought he was being killed.

He hadn't been so lucky.

Soon he had learned that all that Doctor Perceptorhad done to him was disinfect him. It seemed that the Autobot scientist didn't tolerate germs, and humans certainly were part of that classification because Doctor Perceptor had made sure to eradicate each and every one of the group, slowly, painfully… their screams had left no place for doubts.

Subject X-17remembered, or maybe it was a part of his old self that still dared to remember. There had been more with him inside that cage, twenty, maybe thirty people. Men, women, children… even a dog. One by one they had gone, taken to the other side of the energy fence. None returned.

He looked at his hands, still aching. The bleeding had stopped, maybe that's why he noticed that some of his nails were missing and the ones that remained were broken. Had it been his old self scratching the metal walls frantically, looking for an exit that would never be there?

"J…j…" he heard someone muttering inside his head. Perhaps it was his voice.

Doctor Perceptor moved aside, his towering shadow following. Subject X-17blinked. Perhaps his old self, the one that at that moment should have been serving greasy burgers to rude customers, would have screamed, or fallen backwards, or tried to run, or at least have had the human reaction of being agape.

But not anymore. He had been deprived of all the emotions of the living, forced to assimilate horror just as he had done with his new name, printed on that small badge carved onto his arm. That's why he didn't cringe when he saw the big boxes filled with what once had been twenty, maybe thirty people. Was that finger his mom? Was that her foot? Had that breast fed him once?

He smelled the circular saw before he could see it, maybe because he was already used to the smell of metal. Damn, horrible metal. The light was very intense, as much as it had been the Christmas of 1987 under the giant tree in the Rockefeller Center, when his mum had taken him to spend the New Year's Eve in New York. How many years had passed? Two, two hundred? He remembered his mum and the thick eyeliner under the blue color that always seemed to smile. And he remembered her fingers too, toying with his hair… the same fingers that laid in one, or many, of those boxes.

He was sure the saw would start cutting before he could remember anything more, but it was the light, shinier than ever, that stopped its rotation, that and the door opening.

Two Autobots entered. Subject X-17 remembered them. He had seen them in magazines and TV shows, the two lustrous Lamborghinis that every kid in Jasper talked about: Red and Yellow. He should have known their names, as every kid in Jasper did. But he had never been a car kind of guy. He preferred motorcycles. He had done his calculations. If he kept working at KO Burger for another five years, then he would buy a beautiful blue Ducati like the one he had seen parked outside his school once. That, of course, was if his mum helped him with the half she had promised.

He fell to his knees, shaken by the sound of two very scandalous voices talking at the same time. He didn't know what they were saying, as the Autobots were certainly talking in their language. Doctor Perceptor had been well-mannered enough to speak to him and the rest of the group of twenty, maybe thirty people in a very clear, and British accented English, but Red and Yellow were screeching, literally screeching as they started to play with the boxes.

Doctor Perceptor didn't like it when some of the limbs fell to his clean floor. Then the screeching turned into yelling, and Red punched Doctor Perceptor in the face.

Subject X-17 held his knees against his chest and became a fetus on the floor. He was tired, and cold, and naked, and he could only think of the blue Ducati he would never ride and the burgers he wouldn't serve at KO Burger again. A fleeting glimpse brought to his mind the bitterest thoughts; that day, right after the opening ceremony of the Optimus Prime Park, he and Sierra would have had that dreamy first date.

Sierra. She had been one of the firsts to die, carbonized in a second. At least she hadn't suffered like those other people had. At least she wasn't a finger, an eye, a breast in those boxes of hell.

Then came creaking. And pain, lots of pain. His foot had been broken, perhaps his entire leg. He couldn't help but cry as Red held him by the ankle and balanced him upside down. Red screeched something and threw him aside. Yellow was not too eager to catch him, but still he did. Subject X-17 would have preferred to fall to the floor.

His head hit the palm of Yellow's hand. It was hard and cold, as everything inside that place was. He couldn't move for a moment, that's why he could see Yellow's face, so rigid, so hard, so different from Red, who was cackling maniacally. Whatever those two were talking about didn't make Yellow happy. His features hardened even more.

Light became unbearable when he was taken outside the Autobot base, the heat of the air biting his skin, paradoxically making him colder than ever. That was death, he was sure, the one thing that mixed hot with cold, and pain with nothing.

Red barked something. Yellow grimaced in disgust before tossing his human charge on the ground, not as roughly as Subject X-17 had expected. He landed on his side, the difficulty to breathe pointing to a broken rib.

"Alrighty, fleshies, thing's simple," Red said in the scariest English ever. "Me and Sunny here happen to feel generous today, so we're offering one of you a ticket out of Autobot land, the happiest place on Earth. There's a knife over there, right between you two. Give us a good show."

Only then Subject X-17 noticed the man standing a few feet from him. It was an old man, maybe already in his eighties, dressed in a wrinkled suit that was stained with blood. Subject X-17 didn't remember having seeing him in the group of twenty, maybe thirty people.

"Did ya hear what I said, fleshbags?" Red spoke again, this time yelling. "Start now, or we'll tear you both to pieces!"

It didn't take a genius to understand that Red wanted Subject X-17 and the old man to fight for their freedom, to fight each other to the death.

He didn't know why, but he looked upwards, searching for the hard face of Yellow. Death was certainly closer to him than he had thought, because he could swear that the Autobot looked aside, avoiding his gaze.

Red yelled something else, this time in his alien language. Yellow responded in a similar tone. A discussion. A discussion between robots.

Subject X-17 blinked repeatedly when a cloud of dust entered his eyes. Through the tears and the sand he could see the old man, knife in hand. It hadn't taken him long to make up his mind. That man was going to kill him. He was that desperate. Subject X-17 should have been as well.

He avoided the old man's first attack relatively easily, even though his foot and ribcage hurt like hell. At closer inspection, the man looked even older, or perhaps he had aged a century in just a few hours. Maybe Subject X-17 looked that decayed too. Maybe his mum and Sierra would have been unable to recognize him. He didn't recognize himself, having his name on the tip of the tongue, as bitter as the taste of dust and blood he had in his mouth.

The second swing of the knife didn't go in slow motion like the first one, and he felt cold metal biting his hand when he tried to protect himself. It wasn't the sight of blood that made him act, but the palm of his hand cleanly opened in two, a red flower that made him realize how much he loved his body, how much he wanted to keep living.

He hit the man with all his strength, his fist finding no resistance when it punched both flesh and bone.

In which insane world would a sixteen year old kid attack an old man like that?

In the same one in which the Autobots, the heroic Autobots, had obliterated an entire town from the face of the Earth.

The old man cried and dropped the knife, but Subject X-17 didn't pick it up. His hands went straight to the man's throat, warm red moistening both neck and fingers. Who was the victim, who the killer? Subject X-17 wondered if maybe he had served that man a burger at KO… with double cheese. Most likely not. Usually people of that age didn't eat fast food.

He heard the cries and the pleas, not coming from the old man but from the thing inside of him, the thing that had been a sixteen year old kid who dreamed of a blue Ducati and a date with the prettiest girl in school.

The next thing he saw were tears, the last tears of his life falling over his bare chest. The old man gasped within his grasp but Subject X-17 didn't care. He didn't know how kill. At least lessons were not required to know how to die; that was the gift of the human race.

"What? Is this it? We offer you a chance to keep wearing your filthy armor of skin and this is what we get? Slag you!" Red spat, turning to Yellow. "Okay Sunny, take care of your bag of protoplasm, I'll get rid of the old frag."

Subject X-17 was still sobbing when Yellow picked him up, once again not as roughly as he could have done. No bones broke this time, although the severe pain in his ribcage continued to remind him that he was seriously injured.

Yellow walked, big strides taking him away from the volcano, the place all the kids in Jasper talked about, the same place in which many of them had died.

It was the Sun, or maybe the soft swaying of Yellow's hand. Most likely, Subject X-17 was rehearsing death, but the thing was that he fell asleep on that hand. He dreamed about his mum and Sierra. They were alive, complete, smiling. They were calling his name.

He woke up with the same taste of blood in his mouth.

He wasn't in Yellow's hand anymore. He was lying on the ground, but he wasn't alone.

Yellow was standing beside him, although he didn't seem to be aware of his presence. The Sun was beginning to be swallowed by the distant line of the horizon.

Was that his cue to beg for his life?

"My name is Jackson Darby …" he said instead.

Yellow didn't say anything, perhaps he hadn't even hear him. He remained motionless, staring at the landscape ahead but at the same time seeming not be looking at anything at all.

"I used to hate humans… before," he said in perfect English. "I never told anybody."

Then Yellow turned to him, looking at his eyes for the first time.

"Run," he said in low voice. "Run and warn your kind. Their darkest hour is approaching."

Subject X-17 hesitated, but Jack Darby didn't. He ran, his hurt foot burning on the inclement sand, but he ran.

He ran and ran and ran, and never looked back.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>Guest starring: Jack and June Darby, and Sierra from Transformers Prime – as I'm sure you all noticed. I thought about including Miko instead of Sierra, but so far Jack has only showed romantic interest toward Sierra. And no, the blue Ducati wasn't Arcee; it was a regular motorcycle. I just made reference to a certain scene of TF Prime.<em>

_Okay, two characters more to go to close this part of the story. Wanna take a guess who they are?_

_Thanks for reading, and don't forget to share your thoughts. Your feedback is very appreciated :o)_


	12. Five faces of shame, part three

_Finally I managed to finish this chapter. Sorry to keep you guys waiting. The truth is that I had most of this chapter written a long while ago, but whenever I wanted to get to the 'To be continued' part, something else came up._

_But here it is, thanks to my beta reader iratepirate who revised my grammar in the blink of an eye. I know nobody cares about this, but anyway let me say that I'm super happy because she didn't found many grammar mistakes this time. You should see how many corrections she used to do in my first fics…_

_Okay, now returning to this chapter… I seem to remember that I asked you if you could guess the identity of our two final guests to this 'Five faces of shame' part of the story. Your choices were pretty interesting, but as you will see, the real deal was very, very hard to guess, starting from the fact that I had NEVER written these two characters before._

_Well, you'll tell me._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

**Five faces of shame**

**Part three**

**Swoop**

He didn't know why, but he found himself remembering tar.

As a flier, his thoughts should have been set in the sky. But he wasn't like other fliers. He was a Dinobot, and whatever else he was after that didn't really matter. He had wings, but he remembered tar. He was the only flier that remembered tar.

The sound of metal against metal had become a pleasant hum a while ago, just like the blurry figure of Ratchet doing whatever he was doing in that web of wires and circuits.

"Ah, you're awake." The doctor turned to look at him, his voice ever so gentle. Swoop frowned; despite being a weakling, grumpy old Ratchet was _never_ gentle. Not on the surface, at least, because deep inside, he was a bad case of goodie-good junk.

"The others?" Swoop said, his half-dormant optical sensors scanning the room. He was alone. No matter if Ratchet or tons like him were there; if Grimlock, Sludge, Snarl and Slag were out of sight, then Swoop was alone.

"In stasis-lock. Don't mind about them," Ratchet said nonchalantly, waving his hand.

_Don't mind about them?_ Poor excuse for a medic… If anything, the Dinobots cared about one thing and one thing only: their own.

Thoughts and memories flowed easily. He found himself remembering the time when Slag had punched Ratchet in the face just because he had felt like doing so. Swoop laughed.

"Oh, so we're in a good mood, are we?" Ratchet spoke again. And again, his face was so gentle… Swoop trusted only in two things: his fellow Dinobots and his instincts. He was sure that both would have agreed that the cowardly doctor was up to something.

"Where's Wheeljack?" Swoop asked, his vocalizer feeling clearer than before. That was one of the things he hated about recharge or stasis mode; they made him feel clumsy.

Ratchet stopped working on his tangle of wires and gave it a criticizing look. "Wheeljack? Well…" he grasped the small device with a laser and welded two cables together, "let's say that he has been reassigned. From now on, you and your fellow Dinobots will deal only with me."

Swoop raised an optic ridge. The strutless doctor instead of the mad scientist… It didn't seem like an unfair trade, but still he was afraid he would get bored. Fortunately – or not - he had an easier nature than all his fellow Dinobots together.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing toward Ratchet's piece of junk. "Looks like leg."

"Does it really look like a leg to you?" Ratchet's face seemed to shine. "Well, thank you, my dear friend, because that's exactly what it is. You wouldn't believe it, right? Seventy four thousand vorns being a physician and this is the first time I actually create something. If you ask me, it beats medical duty any day."

Swoop got up from the recharge berth, all his levels already at normal status. Still, he would have preferred if his teammates had been there with him. Sludge was right; the Autobots only had use for the Dinobots when they couldn't handle the Decepticons. If not, then Prime and his merry bots were okay to leave their most powerful warriors buried in tar.

Tar… it wasn't like he didn't like tar. But where did he remember tar from? When?

"Whose leg this?" he asked, curious by nature.

Ratchet smiled. "I'm glad you asked, because you'll play an essential role in this part of the game. Care to walk with me, Swoop?"

He ignored the hand extended toward him, but still he walked beside Ratchet. Swoop gave one last look at the weird leg before the big door before them opened.

"As you know well, our war against the Decepticons has turned into a stalemate."

Not really. The Dinobots had arrived to make a difference. They—

Swoop stopped dead in his tracks, the sight before him momentarily managing to make him enlarge his optics.

"Oh, please don't mind this," Ratchet said, looking at the giant thing that surely completed the leg. "It's just a prototype."

"Proto-type?"

"How good are you with Cybertronian history?" Ratchet continued, apparently not noticing Swoop's uneasiness. "Have you ever heard about the Guardians? Big, bad robots, created to protect Cybertron? No bells ringing?"

Swoop frowned. He hated to be talked to as if he were stupid. He wasn't stupid. He was, by far, the brightest of the Dinobots. He was sure.

Although, in this case, he had to admit that he had no idea of what Ratchet was talking about.

When he shrugged his shoulders, Ratchet took the opportunity to palm him on the shoulder. "No need to be ashamed, Swoop. The big fellas have been out of commission for eons, long before you were built… This one, as I'm sure you can tell, is only an experiment, an attempt to recreate the deadliest soldiers Cybertron ever saw."

"What for?" he spat with contempt. "Autobots don't need big soldiers. Autobots have Dinobots."

"True, very true, but Optimus Prime has had different ideas lately…"

"Optimus Prime: weak."

Ratchet laughed. "Normally, I couldn't agree more with you, but things have changed. As I said, our flamboyant leader has, let's say, changed his modus operandi." The doctor made some notes on a datapad and turned it off before looking at Swoop again. "You've never liked Optimus Prime, have you Swoop?"

He shook his head frantically. Grimlock didn't like Prime because he said he was weak and lacked of initiative to kick Decepticon butts, but Swoop had his own reasons to dislike the leader of the Autobots. He stood as he was better than everybody else, didn't allow the Dinobots to do what they wanted, and he had that very annoying way of giving orders…

Ratchet smiled, seeming to read him, and turned toward a computer console. "Well, like him or not, I have to admit that our leader has taken quite an… _interesting _twist on our war against the Decepticons. Care to take a look?"

The sight on the monitor didn't disturb Swoop. As a warrior, he was used to devastation. After all, devastation was something that was generally caused by his teammates.

But definitely not of that kind.

"What's this?" he asked, recognizing the battlefield as a human settlement. That was not Dinobots' doing. Dinobots didn't squish fleshies.

Ratchet looked at him carefully. "What does it look like to you?"

"Decepticon attack," he replied without a doubt. Cowardly Decepticons, attacking weaklings that were even more cowardly than them.

"Yes, it would appear so…" Ratchet pushed a button on the console and the image changed. "Only that this time the Decepticons are not to blame." The medic turned and looked at him directly in the optics. "It was us, Swoop. Optimus Prime has decided to make war on the humans."

Swoop wasn't shocked. If anything, he was curious. He wasn't sure he had heard well, so he had to make sure.

"Humans are friends of the Autobots." _Not of the Dinobots, though._

Ratchet twisted his mouth. "Yes, that's how it used to be… But not anymore. You see, Earth has energy, energy that we need to defeat the Decepticons. And frankly, the humans have been very stingy concerning sharing their resources with us lately."

Swoop could understand that, but still that wasn't reason to crush the bugs.

"Maybe you should talk to them."

"No, time for talking is over." Ratchet shook his head. "Optimus Prime has dictated that this planet is ours to conquer. There are, of course, obstacles that we need to sort out first. That's where you and your fellow Dinobots enter the game. As our strongest warriors, we expect you to make a difference and tip the scales in our favor."

Swoop grabbed his chin, the act of deep reflection not very familiar but still he could recognize it. Information was being displayed light-speed like in his processor, or perhaps Ratchet was talking too fast. Too many words, too many things to think about… Still, it wasn't difficult to give them a name.

"We… have to be bad?" he asked carefully. He didn't know about ethics. All he knew was that the Dinobots kicked Decepticon hides and they loved to do it.

Ratchet laughed. "Oh no, not at all… Take it as a matter of politics. Don't break your head trying to see it otherwise. It's far simpler than you think."

Swoop pointed at the scene still displayed on the screen. "_This _bad! Dinobots don't crush human bugs!"

Ratchet stepped back, like the cowardly worm he was, and raised his hands. "Whoa, cool down there, my friend. I'm afraid you're not getting the point…"

"Point: Autobots cowards. Dinobots not!"

The bitter feeling of the fuel running through his lines made him realize that he was disgusted. As all the Dinobots, Swoop was no human lover by any means, but – also, as all the Dinobots – he allowed the little worms crawl in peace as long as they didn't mess with him.

"Cowards?" Ratchet spat, his face hardening in a way Swoop had never seen. "Let me tell you about cowardice, Swoop. Cowardice is the thing that kept us away from wining a war we should have won since day one. How much do you know about Cybertronian history, I ask you again? Do you even know who started the war and why?"

"Megatron—"

"Megatron? Please!" Ratchet punched the console, startling Swoop. "We started the war, _we _did it! What? Did you believe that story of heroic Autobots trying to stop the evil Megatron and his Decepticons from conquering Cybertron? Come on! Did Wheeljack do such a bad job in your processors that you and your team of animals are not even able to think? We started the war, Swoop! We did it! The Decepticons were nothing but a bunch of renegades that could have been stopped the moment they fired the first shot! We were in control of Cybertron, we could have crushed them. But what did we do instead? We allowed the conflict to grow and become an army because our leader, Primus damn him, privileged life!"

The moment to punch Ratchet had arrived, but Swoop didn't take it. He was sure that Grimlock wouldn't be pleased with his hesitation, but the mech facing him wasn't the same good ole Ratchet that Swoop used to know. This Ratchet was twisted.

The doctor returned to his previous mood. For some reason, that disturbed Swoop more than if the yelling had continued.

"But," Ratchet said, walking toward another of those proto-things he had mentioned, one that had sort of a complete body, "_but_ it's never too late to rectify. This war has to be won, and as soon as possible. Then we'll be able to concentrate on what really matters here."

Swoop gave one last confused look at the screen still displaying the massacre before following Ratchet.

"I have chosen your team to win the war for us. The Dinobots will eradicate the Decepticon menace once and for all. It won't be clean, but we'll be there to pick up the pieces after the job is done."

Swoop didn't understand. He had completely lost the turn of the conversation, his mind still disturbed by images that he knew the Dinobots would never be part of.

"Megatron," Ratchet said, arriving at the Guardian model. "Prime is being very naïve about all this, thinking that his old enemy will come to his senses and join us, but I'm certain that Megatron is the only obstacle standing in my way. He has to be terminated."

An alarm buzzed inside Swoop's head. Something was wrong, far beyond all the nonsense he had heard for the last few minutes. _My way, my way… _The Autobots had always been a big community of weaklings, never focusing on their personal interests and always talking in plural. Why hadn't Ratchet said 'our way', for example?

"You want Dinobots kill Megatron?" Swoop said when he recovered the ability to talk. As the rest of his fellow Dinobots, he didn't like Megatron and took great pleasure imagining a thousand ways to kick his evil aft, but there was something very wrong going on… Why would Megatron be in the way if the Autobots had gone mad and were crushing human germs? That was the kind of the thing that 'Cons did, so he should approve.

"No, no," Ratchet laughed, grabbing the big and thick arm of the proto-thing robot. Only that it wasn't an arm, but a huge canon, one that resembled Megatron's fusion canon, talking about coincidences. "This has nothing to do with me. It's a decision your Dinobot friends will make by themselves because, you'll see, Grimlock will be angry, very angry. As a matter of fact, he'll be _furious_…"

Ratchet lifted the big canon.

"…when he finds out that Megatron just killed you."

Swoop didn't hear the deafening sound, didn't see the blinding light, didn't even feel the pain.

The last thing he saw in his life was the mouth of the canon. It was black, black as outer space, black as the night, black as oblivion…

Black as tar had to be.

* * *

><p><strong>We<strong>

We are beginning.

We are One.

Metal grinding, gears rotating, a single protoform created under two moons.

From its chest, life opens its petals, its first word one of pain.

We are life.

We spread. Four eyes. Thousands of stars on the mantle above. We are Two.

We are the First Other.

We stir. We observe. We become one.

We see our image through a mirror. We are the same, and yet we are other.

We have no optics, but we see. We have no audios, but we hear. We are spark, and thus we feel.

We exist. We are.

We accept. We observe.

More optics look at the mantle of stars. We are Three.

We are Four.

Five…

We are equal. We are different.

A frown.

Yelling.

One falls. We are Four again.

We scream.

With life, comes pain.

With sentience, differences arise.

Five, Six, Seven…. a Hundred.

We take sides.

We look from the corner of our optics. We think. We betray.

We kill.

We are pain. We suffer, thus we know we exist.

We talk. We find control.

We found a flag.

Peace.

We create control.

We merge.

We divide.

We are all the rest to come.

Evolution.

We are every protoform, every spark tingling with life and pain, every vocalizer that screams.

We are restriction.

We are perfection.

We are intelligence. First thoughts, realizations…. How dark is the sky, how infinite the universe.

Processors.

Sentience.

Programming.

Castes spread in perfect harmony. Functions. Choice is not a right.

We are the depository of the Primary Program. We spread through consciences, we arise through wills, we are the conduit of life and sentience.

We are life.

We are everybody.

We are breems, joors, eons of programmed peace.

We are innocence.

We are listeners. We hear the growl.

We observe. We shock.

We are darkness. We step back in time. We cry our losses.

We are violence.

We are betrayal.

We are brother killing brother.

We are war.

We are acceptance. We gave sentience a price. We pay.

We are eons.

We are strength.

We are kindness.

We are overwhelming nature.

We are change.

We are witnesses.

We are darkness.

We are denial.

We are impossible.

We are impotent. We are a particle dragged by the dark tide.

We are weakness.

We agree. We become dormant.

We are **Matrix of Leadership.**

And We are Shame.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>I'm currently working in two chapters of this story, so be certain that I will update soon. <em>

_Thanks for reading. Please let me know your opinions :o)_


	13. Lunch time at the Nemesis

**Chapter 13**

**Lunch time at the Nemesis**

"D-does this mean you're going to betray us?" Mixmaster always stammered, but his teammates knew perfectly well when his stutter announced that he was genuinely worried. This was one of those occasions.

"Of course not!" Scavenger hurried to reply, offended.

"Keep your voice down," Scrapper told him, looking carefully at his surroundings. It had been a long time since the Constructicons had decided to keep any talk that could sound remotely treacherous only to themselves, but at the present time their precautions seemed useless. Blackmail had ceased to be one of the Nemesis' national sports, starting with the fact that none of the Decepticons sitting at the tables around were paying them any attention.

Scavenger hunched and looked at his intact Energon cube. "I mean… I'm not going to go against you guys. I'm your teammate and I'll always be. You call the shots, Scrapper, and I'll tag along as always."

"You were always sentimental," Bonecrusher said, his tone not exempt of disdain. "Remember that time when we almost fragged up Earth's core?"

"Count me out of such exemplary achievement," Hook said with his best ironic tone. "My calculations were a hundred percent accurate. If Devastator would have followed my lead, the stability of this planet would have never been at risk."

"The same Devastator for whom you happen to be the head, Hook. Don't make me remind you that you were also part of said _exemplary achievement,_" Scrapper said bitterly before returning his attention to Scavenger. "This is a matter of the utmost importance. I'm not concerned about any eventual treachery on your account, so get that out of your head and stop trembling. I know where you stand and I know it's not against us. What I need to know is what exactly happened in your processor after the reroute of your programming."

"I want to know that too," Mixmaster said. "I say we o-open him up and find out."

Scavenger pushed his chair backwards, separating himself a bit from the table. It was an instinctive reaction, as was his left hand gripping the edge so tight that it dented the polished surface where the six Energon cubes rested.

Mixmaster giggled. "E-easy. I was only joking, see? Slag, you even left the marks of your fingers on the table."

Bonecrusher and Long Haul laughed too, but their leader didn't seem to share their amusement.

"Scavenger," Scrapper said, his voice as serious as it was calm. "Put the gun down."

All the Constructicons, including Hook, looked at their leader in amazement, right before they focused their heat detectors on the energy reading under the table.

Scavenger was the most amazed of them all. "I… I don't know what happened." He lowered his right hand, returning his laser pistol to subspace. "I didn't mean it. I would never shoot you, Mixmaster. You know that, don't you?"

"Not fatally," Hook said calmly, returning to his indifferent mood. "There are plenty of places where you can shoot him without deactivating him. Which one of those were you aiming at?"

"I said I didn't mean it!" Scavenger noticed that one of the Coneheads at a near table turned to look at him, so he lowered his voice when he continued speaking. "I really don't know what happened. See what I mean? That's what I was trying to tell you guys."

"Tell us what?" Bonecrusher smirked. "That you are… _evil _now? Give us some credit, Scavenger. We always knew you were the weak link of the group. You never had what it takes to be a Decepticon. You were too soft."

"I'm not evil. I just… don't feel comfortable with this whole new programming thing."

"Well, you always kind of sympathized with some Autobot ways," Long Haul told him. "Why should it be different now?"

Scavenger looked at his teammate, scandalized.

"Before you decide to point a gun at Long Haul and actually use it, you know as well as we all do that what he said is true," Hook said dismissively. "Although I find this matter extremely melodramatic – as you always were, Scavenger – I, for once, agree with Scrapper that your processor should be analyzed. That might shed some light on this very unique reprogramming incident."

"Let the lab geeks take care of that," Bonecrusher said, looking at one of the tables at the back of the room, where Skyfire sat with his human friends, looking very uncomfortable. "We are engineers."

"Be-besides we don't know how Meggsie will react if he finds out that he has a potential traitor in his ranks," Mixmaster joked, but he kept an attentive optic on Scavenger's hands.

"Megatron wouldn't deactivate him, that's for sure," Long Haul said. "That would go against our new beliefs, right?"

Bonecrusher put his feet on the table, which caused him two irritated looks from both Scrapper and Hook. "Yeah, about that… I'm totally fine with our new programming, don't get me wrong. I just wonder what the pit I'm supposed to smash now that blowing things up is wrong. Whoever came up with this reprogramming thing didn't consider demolition experts."

"You could switch places with me," Long Haul suggested, unable to hide the slight tingle of hope in his voice. Ever since he had been appointed as the team's official cargo bot, he had hated it.

"Interesting, but no."

"We are deviating from the main point here," Scrapper said. "I insist that betrayal amongst the team is not even to be considered. But we are a Gestalt. We must avoid any instability within the bond if we want to keep Devastator focused."

"A-a-and since when has Devastator been focused?" Mixmaster laughed nervously. Things haven't been easy for the first Decepticon combiner team after the Stunticons and the Combaticons arrived to take Gestalt technology to the next step. And there are also the Autobot Gestalts to consider…

Hook looked at Scrapper with superiority. "If you want to talk about main points, I'm happy to indulge. Point number one: Scavenger has always been uncomfortable with the, let us call it, hidden clauses in the Decepticon code. Point number two: Verbal evidence suggests that such will continue to be the case. _And _point number three: you are overreacting."

"Don't forget point number four: you're still irritating, Hook," Bonecrusher said, sneering.

Hook ignored his teammate and kept his attention on his team leader. "Take you, for example. Imagine you have an Autobot wreck entirely at your disposal. Would you resist the need to turn him into one of your masterpieces?"

"Not if the Autobot is already terminated," Scrapper replied without a doubt. "But if he's alive, even if slightly, the answer is yes."

Hook huffed. "In other words, the disposal of our enemies' mortal remains is only ethical when said remains are, indeed, mortal."

"Phrase it as cocky as you want," Scrapper retorted. "Resources are not to be wasted, especially in times of war, but if the mech in question is still alive…"

"Now you two are digressing," Bonecrusher interrupted what promised to be an epic debate. "Isn't our little brother what matters here?" He rested his huge arm on Scavenger's shoulders. "If he says he doesn't like our new line of work, I say we let him. As long as he doesn't join the Autobots or keeps pointing guns at us beneath the table, I'm perfectly okay with his beliefs."

Long Haul shrugged his shoulders. "Me too, what the slag… We covered him before, we can cover him now. I don't think Devastator will be affected."

"S-speaking of which, is Devastator still a fitting name?" Mixmaster asked. "I mean, i-it's not like we're going to keep smashing things up."

"We're engineers before anything else, remember that," Scrapper said. "We were Devastator back then and we are Devastator now. End of discussion."

"And what's going to happen to Scavenger?" Long Haul looked at his troubled teammate.

"Nothing's going to happen," Hook replied. "And if you don't believe me, hear it from the wayward element himself. Let me ask you one pivotal question, Scavenger. Crystal City. How do you feel about it?" The surgeon seemed not to notice the slight nod of approval Scrapper gave him.

"W… what do you mean?"

"Our biggest creation _and _our first destruction," Hook insisted. "How do you feel about that?"

Scavenger looked at his hands. "I felt bad when it happened. Like… like we shouldn't have done it."

"Now that you mention it, we could have proven ourselves to Megatron in some other way," Long Haul said, but Bonecrusher elbowed him in the chest and cut him short.

Hook definitely didn't have his team leader's patience, because he tapped the table with his fingers anxiously. "What about now? We are talking about now."

"I…" Scavenger waited for Thundercracker to reach the energon dispenser at the back of the room in order to keep talking without being heard. "I guess I still feel bad about that. Crystal City was our creation, our most beautiful creation. We should have blown Omega Supreme up instead. That would have made our point clear just the same."

Scrapper shook his head. "You were doing fine until the Omega Supreme part. We're going to have to work on some excerpts of your programming, but I see no major problem here. I don't expect you to agree with everything we do from now on. But considering that was the case before, all you have to do is, as you said it yourself, tag along."

"So we're cool," Mixmaster said. "That's, uh… cool."

Behind them, a loud, metallic thud reverberated through the room when Thundercracker kicked the energon dispenser.

"Half a ration?" the blue Seeker growled. "Since when does this wretched thing serve only half rations?"

"Somebody forgot to tell Mister Personality that our last energy raid was sort of canceled," Bonecrusher said, cracking his knuckles.

Scavenger grabbed his Energon cube and extended it outwards. "Here," he said in a loud voice. "Have mine. I'm not hungry anyway."

Thundercracker took the cube, gave Scavenger a curt thank you and returned to his table.

"See?" Mixmaster said, palming Scavenger's arm. "You're still a good guy. S-Scrapper's right. We're going to be fine."

Scrapper didn't say anything. He really wanted to believe that.

* * *

><p>Thundercracker let himself fall on the chair beside Dirge. Elite and Conehead Seekers rarely sat together during fuel time, but the rupture of old divisions was only one of the many changes the new Decepticon programming had brought to the Nemesis.<p>

"I didn't know that fuel was being rationed," Thundercracker said.

"Get used to it," Dirge told him. "Since we are not taking it from the humans anymore, I'd say we're going to have plenty of cycles like this."

"Where are we going to get our fuel then?" Ramjet asked. "I'm all okay with the no-crushing-bugs policy, but we don't energize on good intentions, ya know?"

Dirge shrugged his shoulders. "Megatron will think of something. He always figures things out."

A small tank filled with water was placed on the table, both interrupting the conversation and spilling some of its liquid content around.

"What's that?" Thrust asked the newcomer. "New diet?"

Skywarp shook his head, pulled up a chair with his leg and sat heavily. "It's my fishbowl."

"Your what?"

Thrust's question went unanswered when Thundercracker put some distance between his Energon and Skywarp's water tank. "Be careful, 'Warp. Do you know what salty water does to refined Energon? Wait, this fuel is still refined, isn't it? Or are we going to start feeding with low grade too?"

"Why are you complaining so much, slagger? You got two cubes instead of one," Ramjet spat. "So much for fuel being rationed, huh?"

"Sorry, TC," Skywarp said, ignoring the Conehead. "Daisy is hungry."

"Who's Daisy?" Thrust asked him.

Skywarp pushed the Cybertronian sized fishbowl toward the red Seeker. "My Earth creature. I named her Daisy."

"Uh… she's cute. What kind of Earth creature is it?"

"Haven't you been sunk in this ocean long enough to recognize a white shark when you see it, Thrust?" Thundercracker said, annoyed. "Skywarp has had this creature almost since we arrived to this planet."

"Yep. She sneaked into my quarters once when I broke my window whilst I was watching a holo-video of two Nebulan femmes interfacing—"

Thundercracker grimaced. "No details of you playing with yourself, please."

"Heh, okay. Although that was one a hell of a solo job," Skywarp laughed. "Point is that I took Daisy in. We've been together since then."

Thrust grabbed the fishbowl and raised it to his face. "So a white shark… Nice. I didn't know you were fond of pets, Skywarp."

"I thought you had noticed. Don't I hang out with you all the time?"

"You frag-head…"

"What Thrust here is trying to say is that we have never seen you with this… fishbowl," Dirge said. "Why did you bring it here?"

Skywarp snorted. "Why not? It's not like anyone is going to be the smart aft and try to mess with Daisy. We're the good guys now, remember? We stand for life, freedom, innocence and all that slag. And Daisy here is a pretty innocent organic life form." Skywarp recovered his fishbowl and looked at his pet with a caring smile. "Although I wouldn't exactly call her innocent, hehehe. You should see the way she feeds. She loves to rip off flesh and makes a mess of blood, bones and organic insides—"

"Can you skip the explicit parts? I'm trying to fuel here," Thundercracker interrupted his friend. "But Dirge has a point, 'Warp. You should return Daisy where she belongs."

"No. She feels lonely in my room."

Dirge sighed. "I think Thundercracker means that you should return the creature to the ocean."

Skywarp held his fishbowl tight and put it against his chest. "No! She's my pet."

"A pet that you can't keep feeding anymore," Thundercracker said, calling his patience. "You said it yourself. We are the… good guys now. Retrieving the organic fuel your shark needs to remain functional is out of the question now that ethics are in your way. Besides, keeping that creature locked in a place where it doesn't belong is cruel."

"Uh… maybe she can fuel with vegetables. I've seen other creatures on this planet doing it."

Thundercracker shook his head. "The ones you've seen aren't the carnivorous type."

"What are you talking about?" Thrust asked.

Thundercracker turned to him. "Skywarp fed his shark mostly on humans," he said with a tingle of disgust. "I always considered it a savage practice but Skywarp has a major problem when it comes to listening to reason."

"Yeah," Skywarp admitted, ashamed. "I used to go and grab humans of different kinds to feed Daisy. She preferred the ones with the small horns."

"Those weren't humans, but cows," Thundercracker kept explaining.

"Well, Daisy liked those ones better. They screamed less and were fatter. Humans did nothing but whimper and lubricate themselves."

"Wait," Ramjet said. "Would those be the same humans you like to sneak in my joints when I recharge?"

Skywarp smirked. "Bingo."

"I wouldn't know if they scream. Most of them were pulp by the time I finished grinding them with my gears… involuntarily, of course."

They all thought about one of Ramjet's favorite aerial hobbies, rudely called 'Grab a human and let the slime ball fall', but they decided not to mention it.

"Speaking of humans," Thrust said, looking discreetly at the table at which Skyfire and his small organic friends were trying to be invisible. "They're not all that bad. I've been talking to the one with wheels. He's far smarter than I used to give him credit for."

Skywarp laughed. "You hang out with Ramjet and Dirge all the time, Thrust. Everybody would look smart to you in comparison."

"I'm serious here, you aft-hole. The human lost his makers and yet there he is, holding his ground inside a base of former enemies."

"Just former, Thrust?"

Everybody turned to look at Thundercracker.

"Just because our programming has changed doesn't mean that we are meant to be these creatures' heroes." The blue Seeker slowly lowered his second energon cube and rested it on the table. "If you seriously think we're going to erase the damage we have inflicted on this planet with a simple change of attitude, you're more naïve than I thought. The humans hate us and consider us their enemies. No matter how much we say otherwise or how hard we try to fix our mistakes, they will never trust us."

"This programming thing did nothing to change your eternal pessimism and apathy, I can see that," Dirge spat at his fellow blue Seeker. "But we happen to think different. Thrust says he's making a difference with that human, and I believe him."

"And who is that human, but one within a legion of billions?" Thundercracker retorted. "We are evil to them, understand that once and for all. The fact that we have abandoned our old ways means nothing to a world we have ravaged. Predators don't turn into protectors, Dirge. It would be totally disrespectful to the inhabitants of this planet, not to mention a joke, for us to pretend to save the day."

"So you're just going to sit there, complain about the Energon being rationed – which hardly applies to your royal aft because I just saw you drinking two cubes in a row – and do nothing?"

Thundercracker leaned back in his chair and looked at Dirge with his optics narrowed. "I didn't say that."

"Pfft, let him be," Ramjet said, getting up from his chair and grabbing Dirge by the arm. "Thrust and I just got the brightest idea ever. You're going to love this."

"Sorry fellas, private matter here," Thrust said, following his wingmates to the exit.

"Conehead fraggers," Skywarp hissed, still dizzy from the argument he had witnessed. "Give them a servo and they will take them all."

"They have hope. I can't blame them for that." Thundercracker straightened on his chair and turned to look at Skywarp. "What about you, 'Warp? Suddenly you became strangely silent. I was sure you would jump to defend their… heroic theory."

Skywarp smiled slightly. "Oh, I would have… had I not been so impressed with you."

"Do you have a problem with my opinions? Do you think that I'm pessimistic and apathetic too?"

"I have always thought that," Skywarp chuckled. "But no. It's just that I have never heard you speaking so much in a single day."

Thundercracker rolled his optics and got up from his chair. "Whatever."

"Oh, but TC… what am I going to do with Daisy then?" Skywarp looked at his fishbowl with sadness. "I can't keep kidnapping humans or other organics to feed her, I know that…"

"Do with that creature what you should have done the very day you acquired it," Thundercracker said, starting to walk away. "Set it free."

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>I take it you remember the G1 episode 'The core', in which Megatron ordered the Constructicons to drill Earth until its molten core in order to extract geothermal energy. The episode is so good that it makes you forget about the lousy animation. <em>

_I always had the idea that Scavenger was a decent guy because of that same episode. When the Constructicons are sent to stop the giant drill that is about to destroy Earth, he gets sentimental and tells his teammates that, in case they don't make it, it's been great to be part of the team. _

_As for the Crystal City incident, in the cartoon the Constructicons – who, indeed, built it – destroyed it because they had been turned evil by Megatron and his robo-smasher. But seriously, did any of you ever buy that? I found the idea of the Constructicons allying with the Decepticons because of their personal interests much more realistic, not to mention enriching for the story._

_Next chapter of this fic is almost done, so expect another update really, really soon. We will take a trip to the Ark and see how things are going there._

_Many thanks to my dear friend iratepirate for taking care of my glitched grammar, and many thanks to all of you for reading. Remember to let me know your opinions._

_Have a great Sunday!_


	14. Oh podium, dear podium

_Welcome back! You may remember that we took a peek at the Nemesis – and got used to the idea of Skywarp having a shark as a pet. Now let's see what is happening in the Ark exactly at the same time._

_I want to thank QoS a lot for her priceless assistance in beta reading this chapter._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

**Oh podium, dear podium**

"Makes you think, doesn't it?"

Jazz looked at Prowl, searching for any sign of annoyance in his friend's cold countenance. He didn't find it, not on the surface.

"The way things have changed, the way they'll keep changing…" Jazz went on when Prowl didn't reply. "Have you wondered where we'll be standing when all this finishes? The slag hit the turbine and is flying everywhere, man. At this point, it can land anywhere."

Prowl looked down; at least he was slightly interested. From the big window at the top of the Ark, both Autobots had a very good view of the little convoy leaving their mothership.

"We'll be standing exactly where we are right now," Prowl said after another moment of silence. "If anything prevails, order will."

Jazz sneered. "So you say…"

They both waited until the five Autobots disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust behind.

"It should have been you there, Prowler."

"Prime thought it would be better if his Second in Command remained here."

_And did he? I kinda see Prime's new Second in Command leaving the Ark with him._

"Yeah, right… it has some logic," Jazz snorted. "Let me rephrase then: _He _should not be there."

Once again, Prowl chose not to reply. Yeah, he was annoyed. Not much perhaps, but enough to create that little twist in the corner of his mouth.

"He's aiming for your position, ya know that, right?" Jazz kept testing the territory he was sure he knew perfectly well.

He could have sworn he felt Prowl's optic sensors zooming in on the spot where Ratchet, proudly driving at Optimus Prime's right side, had disappeared.

The saboteur waited for a reasonable amount of time for a reply, but when he didn't get any – for the third time – he thought it was his duty to press the matter. "Ratchet got some points with Prime by taking out Swoop. Yeah, maybe we lost a good element and one of the few Autobot fliers, but in return we got a very pissed group of Dinobots claiming revenge. I tell you, man, if I were Megatron, I'd be lubricating on myself."

He pretended he was looking at the horizon, but his optical sensors were focused on Prowl, deciphering the unspoken language in every bit of movement – or lack of movement – of his friend. It had always been like that; Prowl had to be read like a very encrypted ancient code, but every once in a while he betrayed himself with an explicit display of feelings. At least it was explicit to Jazz.

"Ratchet's method was totally out of protocol, but if the results fulfill the expectations, I won't be one to question it."

"Ethics were never your problem, man, I know that. I'm talking about something else." Jazz would never say the word 'jealous', but it was floating in the air.

"Whatever it is that you're thinking, disregard it."

_Yeah, try as hard as you can, but you could never be the Autobot Shockwave, my man, not even if your life depended on it._

And maybe it would come to that, Jazz thought, not without disturbance.

"All I'm saying is that you should have gone with Prime and the others to meet those human leaders, not Ratchet. The total destruction of the 'Cons will be the top theme on that table. What's a slagging doctor got to do with that?"

"Prime has his reasons," Prowl replied curtly. It had been obvious since the beginning that he hated that conversation, but for his own sake, it had to happen.

"The only reason Prime has is that Ratchet is kissing his tailpipe all the time, and Prime seems to like it."

Finally, Prowl turned to Jazz and looked him straight in the optics. "Ratchet found a way to keep the Dinobots on our side without reprogramming them, and he's bringing the Guardian Program back to life. Those are not small achievements, Jazz."

The saboteur snorted. "Perhaps not, but they aren't enough to fill your shoes. I'd like to see Ratchet holding his ground the way you've done for all these thousands of vorns. He's not SIC material, I tell ya."

Prowl looked at him severely before putting his hands on the rail and looking at the horizon again. Mornings had never been so sterile.

"If Optimus Prime decides that Ratchet serves him better as his right hand, so be it," he said. "I'll respect his decision."

"Giving up at such an early stage of the game, man? That's not you." He tried not to sound disappointed, but he was sure he had failed. Prowl also knew him like the case of his spark; they hadn't had secrets between them since what seemed like forever. Time had a strange way of getting blurry when a bot had lived for thousands of vorns, and it got worse when most of those vorns had been spent in war. For a moment, Jazz tried to find the complex amount of feelings he had toward the Great War, but he couldn't access that part of his processor. It was disturbing somehow, but he had other priorities than thinking about his inner changes.

The low metallic sound that followed was something he definitely acknowledged. Jazz didn't have to look at the sector of the railing that Prowl was grasping. He knew it had just been deformed by the vise-grip of a strong hand.

"I have never been ambitious for power," Prowl said in a low voice. That bit of information was nothing new to any of them, but Jazz felt that Prowl had needed to spill it.

"I know. Order has always been your true love, with ethics following in a much cheated second place," Jazz said, amused because his own voice had completely failed in sounding jealous. "But things are changing, man, and let's be honest, order hasn't been exactly our thing lately." He couldn't help laughing because he found the image amusing. "I mean, come on, when did you ever think you'd see human carcasses hanging in Perceptor's lab? Fancy."

The twist to Prowl's mouth increased, signaling disgust. Jazz knew that Prowl had a problem with the mess, not with the dead humans. As long as the outcome was clean, it didn't matter how many lives were taken in the process. That was why he had insisted in burning Jasper to the ground after the Autobots had perpetrated the first massacre of their history that hadn't troubled them.

"Perceptor is trying monstrosity," the still Second in Command stated. "We all are. But when things settle down – not change, as you say – order will be restored and we will be able to focus on the important things. Don't forget that there is a war we have to win before doing anything else."

"Oh, I don't forget it. Trust me, I don't forget it a bit… I'd just like to see you on the top when all this finishes."

Prowl turned to him again. "Beside you, you mean?"

Jazz smirked; he had managed to attract all of Prowl's attention. "I'm not aiming for the podium," he said, laughing. "Ya know me, Prowler. I like showing off, not wearing crowns. You, on the other hand…"

"As long as we manage to defeat the Decepticons in a definitive, logical way, I can assure you that I have no interest in any metaphorical podium of yours."

_I know that, buddy. You have always felt comfortable operating from the shadows whilst others take all the glory you earned. It's just the way you are._

"And I'm perfectly okay with that, man. I mean it. I'm just saying that it would be unfair that some wretched doctor comes, does a couple of tricks and claims as his the work – the methodical work – you've been doing all this time. Give the credit to the bot who deserves it, I say. Prime may keep the fire burning, but it's you who make things happen. It was you who turned us into a real army. Not even you can deny that."

"And what do you suggest I do, Jazz? That I sabotage my own achievements?" Prowl snorted. "I have worked very hard to organize the elements that Prime gave me to work with, indeed. I won't ruin everything because of some… jealousy that I assure you doesn't exist. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not competing against anyone."

"Maybe not you, but Ratchet has chosen you as his target."

Prowl looked at him severely. "My only enemies are the Decepticons."

"I hear ya, but you have some enemies at home that you should turn your attention to." He edged toward his partner and made the space between them nonexistent. "Ratchet wants your position and he will do everything he can and more to get it. Now tell me, what is the one good thing that the Decepticons had taught us? What's the best, fastest way to ascend in the ranks?"

They were so close that their energy fields mixed, only that this time the sensation wasn't pleasant at all.

"If you're suggesting that Ratchet will try to dispose of me and take over my position, erase that thought from your data banks."

"Maybe not in that order – yet – but he's already aiming to collapse the ground beneath you. Question is: will _we _allow him to do it?"

Their energy fields kept their uneasy dance for some astro-kliks more before Prowl stepped aside and returned to his apparently indifferent position grabbing the hand rail.

"Swoop's destruction may have served a major purpose, but disposing of a good element is something I wouldn't have done. That's why I won't interfere with Ratchet. As unstable as he is, he's currently of use to the cause. We won't act against him."

_Not yet, you mean… _Jazz couldn't help smirking. _But if Swoop had been just another face in the cannon fodder crowd, you wouldn't have given a slag about him, as you never did before for anyone who wasn't highly useful to the cause – and your purposes. You would have been a perfect Decepticon, my friend, more before than now._

"Got it, but I guess you won't mind if I keep an optic on him."

Prowl didn't reply. It was not necessary.

"I got ya covered, man." Jazz grabbed Prowl's arm affectionately. "If doctor death wants to play rough, he'll find some interesting competition."

As Jazz walked away, he could hear the metallic sound again, although this time the hand rail being ground by Prowl's hand was more than noticeable.

* * *

><p>"Veer… Veer, veer, VEER!"<p>

It was as if Silverbolt was speaking to deaf audios. Fireflight went straight to the plasma beam as if he were yearning for it.

"Frag!" Air Raid could be heard above the noise. "Will we see one single day in which Fireflight doesn't crash? Is that too much to ask?"

Silverbolt was the first to reach the fallen jet. That wasn't difficult to do because he was always the one who flew closest to the ground.

"So, is he okay?" Air Raid asked, landing beside his team leader.

"Two damaged ailerons and some scratches in the underbelly, but he'll be alright," Silverbolt said, examining Fireflight's wounds. "The plasma discharge I shot at him was only mild."

"But enough to bring him down." Air Raid snorted. "I've seen you get injured a thousand times with that same kind of attack, Fireflight. Don't you realize that you put us all at risk with your lame flying?"

"S-sorry…" Fireflight said as he transformed to bipedal mode between the debris of rocks and dust. He tried to get up but he only managed to sit down.

"Is there a way to replace him?"

"We are Gestalts," Silverbolt explained the obvious to Air Raid. The Aerialbot leader wasn't keen on roughness, but he said it with the same tone he would have said 'You are an idiot'.

Air Raid understood the hint and didn't seem to like it, but the arrival of Slingshot and Skydive averted the argument to come.

"Amazing exhibition, Fireflight," Slingshot mocked his fallen brother. "Where do I sign to join your fan club?"

"There's no way we're going to beat Starscream's Seekers if you keep flying like this," Skydive said.

"Oh, you and your hero," Air Raid spat. "We don't spend tons of breems training every day only to defeat Starscream, you know?"

Slingshot laughed. "Besides, you're still a peak away from flying remotely like the Screamer does. And when I say a peak, I'm being gentle."

Skydive shot him a dirty look. "You'd know about that. It wasn't me who was shot down by those Seeker slaggers when you were trying to get Skyfire."

Slingshot's smirk disappeared faster than a plane at Mach3. "Do I have to remind you that I was flying with Fireflight? He's a dead weight in the air! Besides, you wouldn't have done better. I'd say all those cycles you've spent studying and mimicking Screamer's techniques haven't paid off."

Slingshot stammered when Skydive's fist impacted his chest, but he didn't have time to retaliate because Silverbolt got between them.

"Stop this right now, you two! Is immaturity also a part of your new programming? Think before you act!"

"He should think before he speaks," Skydive growled, eager to continue punching his teammate. "I'm the best flier of the team and he needs to respect that."

Slingshot recovered his smirk, not caring about the small dent on his chest. "Thinking isn't exactly something you've been doing recently, 'Dive. And as for your second statement…"

Silverbolt struggled with Skydive, managing to trip him and make him fall. Skydive had never liked dust, but that wasn't the reason why he disregarded his leader's rank and tried to punch him. Beside them, Fireflight rolled to avoid being caught in the skirmish.

"If you're angry, better direct your fury at the right targets," Slingshot said, approaching the two Aerialbots struggling on the ground. "The Stunticons are still out there, saving the day and sending Autobot Gestalts to the repair bay. Keep playing the fool as much as you want, but don't blame me if you end up like the Protectobots. And trust me, ole Prime won't be as merciful with us as he was with them."

"What did you expect? He envies us; he may be big bad Prime, but he can't fly," Air Raid said, helping Fireflight to get up. "Besides, the new guys always pay the toll." The Aerialbots had been online for barely a couple of terrestrial years, but they were sure that wasn't the reason why some Autobots still saw them as newcomers, sometimes even as foreigners.

Skydive stopped struggling with Silverbolt and raised his hands in a pacific gesture. "Speak for yourself, Air Raid," he said, starting to get up. "Unlike you, I'm not waiting for respect to fall from the sky. We have to earn it, something we have failed to do in the more than two stellar cycles we've been online."

"Agreed, and why do you guys think that's the case?" Air Raid directed his next look of contempt to his commander. "'Cause Mister I'm-Afraid-of-Heights here has been everything but a competent leader."

Silverbolt frowned and confronted his teammate, their chest plates clashing. "Are you blaming me for your incompetence, Air Raid? Do I have to remind you that I have done nothing but been you hotheads' nanny-bot ever since we were sparked by Vector Sigma?"

Air Raid didn't step back. "That's exactly what I'm saying. We need a leader, not a caretaker. I don't know you guys, but I think it's time for us to choose a new head for Superion – especially considering we never chose this one."

"I was appointed commander of this team by Optimus Prime!"

"It was about time you mentioned your god, _leader_," Slingshot spat. "You had already started to worry me. You went like five breems without saying his divine name."

Silverbolt turned to Slingshot, seemingly indecisive regarding which of his two disrespectful subordinates to punish first.

"Well, it's true," Fireflight said, giggling. "You always let your crush on him blind you, Silverbolt."

"I don't have any crush on Optimus Prime!"

"Yeah, just as Skydive is not obsessed with Starscream," Slingshot said, accentuating the mockery in his voice.. "Can we direct our thrusters to what matters here, gentlebots? Our dear brother Air Raid made a very valid point. I'm not accusing you of anything, 'Bolt, I'm just saying that the leader must always take responsibility for the failures of his group. And if our team has been, let's say, not blessed by slaggin' Primus lately…"

Silverbolt seemed to have chosen his rival. "And do you think you could do it better, Slingshot? Are you ready to challenge my command?"

"Um, whatever happened to peaceful elections?" Fireflight said behind them.

Silverbolt turned to look at him threateningly, and then to every one of his teammates. "If any of you – or all of you – has a problem with my leadership, I'm more than eager to show you that I'm the only true leader of this team."

Skydive gave Silverbolt's clenched fists a dismissive look. "All right, but let's do it where it counts." He pointed upwards. "We're Aerialbots. We solve our problems in the sky."

"Are you still up for that, 'Bolt?" Slingshot said, laughing. "Don't worry. We'll keep the fight, I don't know, ten cyber-meters from the ground? Or is that still too high for you? Hey, I have a better idea. Why don't we go to the flight simulator and—"

The sound of Silverbolt's fist hitting Slingshot's face reverberated through the deep canyon. The skirmish threatened to take on more important dimensions when Air Raid joined the fight, eager to support Slingshot, but mocking laughter interrupted the bizarre scene. The Aerialbots stopped fighting immediately; inner problems were one of the many affairs that they liked to keep personal, and thus were off limits to any stranger.

They all looked at the top of the big boulder behind them. Powerglide was no stranger by any means, but to the Aerialbots any bot outside their team couldn't be labeled any other way.

The red flier clapped his hands. "Lovely, really lovely. Do you take bets? You're all a bunch of bullies, but I'm willing to put my credits on Silverbolt – as long as you keep the fight on the ground. Concorde beats the smaller planes – on the ground, I insist."

"And speaking about midgets…" Skydive shot the boulder where Powerglide was sitting, but the red Autobot jumped agilely and avoided any damage.

"Is your flying better than your aiming, Skydive?" Powerglide mocked him. "I truly hope so, otherwise that wouldn't speak well of, how did you put it, the _Aerialbots' best flier?"_

Skydive returned his gun to subspace and pointed at the sky. "Why don't you find out yourself, chunk mouth? Take off!"

Powerglide laughed, little pebbles of rock still raining on him. "Are you sure? Don't forget that I've been flying for, I don't know, just a couple of zillion orns more than you. I don't want to embarrass you."

"We'll see about that!"

Silverbolt grabbed Skydive by the arm and stopped him transforming. "Taking advantage of my team's immaturity is something you won't do today, Powerglide," he said calmly. "And speaking of that, I wouldn't say it was very mature of you to spy on private matters concerning my team."

Powerglide snorted. "Private? No disrespect, Silverbolt, but if you want to keep your affairs _private_ you should lower the volume of yer vocalizers. I'm sure even the 'Cons at the _Nemesis_ could hear you arguing."

"I wish they would," Slingshot said, clenching his fists. "I'm in the mood for some good 'Con pounding."

"Then you should keep doin' what you were doin'," Powerglide laughed. "No offense, but for a moment you looked like a bunch of blasted Deceptiscums."

Shutting off the Aerialbots' vocalizers was not an easy thing to do, but that comment did it, helped by the acid dose of truth that none of them dared to deny.

Still, Fireflight tried to save the hopeless thing that appearances had become. "W-what do you mean?" he asked timidly.

Making sure that there were no weapons pointing at him, Powerglide went on. "I mean, come on fellas. Haven't you noticed that, I don't know, we've been acting _slightly_ different from before since we went through this reprogramming thing? I mean, look at you. If it weren't for your bold heads, I'd swear you behave exactly like those Decepticon Seekers."

Skydive crossed his arms across his chest and looked at Powerglide threateningly. "Was that supposed to be an insult?"

"He he he, not at all – I mean, not so long ago you were _dying _to be Decepticon Seekers. My point is that you're searching for respect in the wrong place. If you wanna fly high, stop fighting between yourselves like any blasted 'Con and do something for a change."

"Something like prying on other bots' business?" the self-appointed Aerialbot best flier continued. "Yeah, I can see how… _high_ that has taken you, Powerglide. Oh yes, and I wasn't talking about your stature. That was an offense, by the way."

Powerglide smirked. "But not taken, buddy. My fuselage may be short, but I can outfly jets twice better than you."

Skydive seemed to have calmed down, but his ego was nothing he could expel very easily though his air intakes. "You talk a lot… but do you have the thrusters to prove it?"

"I have something better than thrusters: a plan."

Air Raid raised an optic brow. "What kind of plan?"

Powerglide got himself comfortable on another boulder, not as tall as the one that had been shot, but enough to look at the Aerialbots from the top.

"As I was saying, you guys were behaving like a pack of 'Cons. Not that I complain about that because everybody here is doing exactly the same thing and worse, but I'd say that we, as some of the few Autobot fliers on Earth, should focus on higher objectives than slaughtering humans just to see how they look with their insides opened."

Fireflight retched. "Don't… make me remember that. Couldn't Perceptor just have burned the damn pests?"

Powerglide waved his hand dismissively. "Thing is, random killing is something ground-pounders do, and as much as I love my fellow Autobots, that's exactly what they are, a sad lot of dirt-kissers. We air guys have to stick together, don't you agree?"

The Aerialbots looked at each other hesitantly. As Gestalts, it had always been them against the world, but Powerglide had a point. There were not many Autobot fliers, and having become an island within the army was something that hadn't exactly proved beneficial for them during their few years of life.

Not giving them time to reply, Powerglide continued using the momentum. "And not only the wings, there's something else we have in common. Ever since this glitch happened in our processors, we've been cracking our heads trying to figure out what the slag we're going to do. Are we gonna continue happily being the Autobots' errand boys in the sky?" He stood up on the boulder, trying to appear taller. "I say no, fellas!"

"Great. So now we're going to start a union," Slingshot snarled, turning to his teammates. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of this clown. Dibs on blowing him straight to the Pit."

"And what do you suggest, Powerglide?" Silverbolt asked, ignoring Slingshot. "It's obvious that you like words, but to tell you the truth, you seem to support them more with your vocalizer than you do with actions."

The red flier laughed. "Sins of the past, Silverbolt; we all have them. Thing is that I realized I was tired of being a second character in this movie. And now, now that we can actually do everything we always wanted, I say we go ahead and claim a leading role. Do you guys want to turn into an aerial unit like the Decepticon Seekers? Do you want everybody to fear you like they fear them? Do you want to be the elite Autobot fliers?"

"With you at the top of such an elite?" Silverbolt narrowed his optics. "Don't forget that this team has a head already."

"Whoa, don't misunderstand me, buddy," Powerglide said, rising his hands. "I know you guys want to be acknowledged, I know you want to be on the Autobot podium… And you should be! I mean, you have wings. We all have wings. We are superior."

"No, _we _are Superion," Fireflight joked, but nobody paid him any attention.

"There's something the humans say," Powerglide said, getting down from the boulder and walking straight to the Aerialbots. "_Carpe diem. _Ya know what that means?"

"Seize the day," Skydive said in a serious tone.

"Precisely. And that's exactly what we should be doing." Powerglide got to the center of the circle the Aerialbots had formed and looked at them one by one. "Make every day glorious, get exactly what we want, _when_ we want it… Because, hey, don't we have the wings to do it?"

"I want glory," Slingshot said, not seeming to consider Powerglide a clown anymore. "I want everybody to know what we are: the best Gestalt team ever built. I want them to look up and not be able to see us, because we fly higher than their little ground-pounder optics."

"And that's exactly what will happen, my friends, 'cause you're not only fliers, but a Gestalt. And honestly? A Gestalt of fliers? Not even the 'Cons ever flew that high! All the glory will be yours!"

"Glory that you wouldn't mind sharing, I suppose?" Silverbolt said, giving the smaller red flier a suspicious look.

"Not at all, fellas, not at all… I mean, as much as I enjoy the attention, it's not glory exactly what I'm aiming for… It's something else, something you guys could help me to get. It would be a great opportunity for you to show what you can do as the elite team of this army. Every Autobot would know that you're for real."

"And what would that 'something' be, chunk mouth?" Air Raid asked.

Powerglide's smile became a malicious smirk. "Did I say 'something'? I actually meant 'someone'…" His optics narrowed maliciously as he looked to the sky. "There's _someone_ I want."

His voice had an eerie tone, even when it got lost inside the vast canyon.

_To be continued._

_An advice: fasten your seatbelts really tight because a HUGE twist is coming. I shouldn't say it, but it's one of my favorites of the whole story, and one that will lead to some amazing events._

_Thank you very much for your feedback, it's a big encouragement to keep the chapters flowing :o)_


	15. The robot who hated Astoria

**Chapter 15**

**The robot who hated Astoria**

Joy Meadows sat on the couch. From the corner of her eye, she saw the new camera assistant struggling with some rebel wiring under the severe supervision of Mark, her cameraman.

"No, no… Don't leave the wires around the tripod, kid. Do you want everybody to trip on them? Are you sure you double-checked camera 2? What about camera 1?"

Joy smiled to herself. It hadn't been easy for Mark to accept a rookie as his assistant, but in the end her crew always surrendered to her caprices. Hopefully she would be able to get the kid a part time job at the TV station. He was, after all, her _nephew_, even though some wicked tongues were talking about Joy and her new, teenage lover. It really didn't matter; gossip had never hurt her and it wouldn't start now. Besides, she had much more important things in mind to care about everybody at the TV station wondering who warmed her bed.

She looked to her right, smiling at the beautiful woman sitting beside her. Astoria Carlton-Ritz looked more outstanding every year, despite the fact that she was wearing a sober, yet elegant tailor-made suit instead of the fashion dresses she used to wear during her early youth. Turning twenty one had proven to be good for her; she'd developed an almost majestic stance, not to mention that she would now have complete control of the company that her late father had left her.

But anything related to the résumé of the youngest CEO in the country paled in comparison to her personal life. Ever since she had turned eighteen, she had been in the public eye due to her close friendship with an Autobot and the Decepticon attack during her birthday party that had almost destroyed half of Portland. Back then, Joy was a novice reporter with no chance of getting close to Portland's most glamorous socialite, but things were very different now.

"Are you ready?" Joy asked Astoria, taking her notebook from the coffee table before them.

"Ask away," the businesswoman with the looks of a super model replied.

Joy waited for Mark to give her the cue.

"Good afternoon, we are with Astoria Carlton-Ritz, the youngest CEO in the country and the most successful business women in the Western Hemisphere," she said to the camera standing right in front of the couch. "Astoria, Hybrid Technologies had revenues of four billion this year and profits near ninety six million dollars, with an expectation to increase that number during 1986. How do you explain your success?"

The girl smiled and adjusted the hair over her right ear. "Well, I've been very disciplined and observant of the market, but the secret has always been focusing on the main goal of the company: our customers."

Joy Meadows nodded slightly, and she kept nodding as she asked more questions and received more answers. Normally, she was very attentive during her interviews, one of the reasons why she was one of the sharpest reporters in television. But this time she played by the book, religiously following the questions she had written in her notebook and forgetting entirely about improvisation and style.

Until the right moment, that is.

"I heard that you built a greenhouse on the top of your penthouse. Would you mind giving us a tour?"

"Not all. It will be a pleasure." Astoria stood up.

Joy did the same. "Let's go ahead. Mike will take a couple of minutes to dismount the cameras."

Finally, the opportunity to have some time alone with Astoria had arrived. Joy would make sure not to waste a single second. More than the tight agenda of the young businesswoman, Joy was certain that time had turned into a life and death issue.

"Happy birthday, by the way," she said casually as soon as both women entered the private elevator. "This is certainly a change from the party you had for your eighteenth."

"Starting with the fact that there is no party this year," Astoria said, smiling, "and no funny hats on my chairmen either."

"What about Autobots?" Joy said, not caring about her lack of tact. "Are you expecting some special visitors this year?"

Astoria smiled. It was well known that she didn't like to talk about her personal life, but everybody knew about her friendship with Powerglide. "Maybe… I thought this interview would focus on my company. I wasn't aware that you were a showbiz journalist, Miss Meadows."

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. The truth is that this is no interview at all." Joy grabbed the small microphone attached to her blouse and turned it off. "Just how well do you know the Autobots, Astoria?"

The girl's face remained serious and polite, but a tingle of annoyance could be seen there. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have made it clear more than once that my personal life is no concern of the media. You may be a prestigious reporter – which, believe me, I'm starting to doubt – but that doesn't mean that you will get responses about issues that are entirely private."

Joy shook her head. "Please don't misunderstand me. This is totally off the record. I need to know if you still have a close relationship with the Autobot Powerglide."

Astoria frowned. "I said I didn't mean to be rude. Don't force me to be." Her finger reached out to the alarm button.

"Push that button. It may be the best thing you could to. If my suspicions are correct, you may be in great danger, Astoria."

The girl gave her an odd look, but Joy wouldn't give her any time to breathe. "Do you read the newspapers?"

Astoria folded her arms across her chest, looking offended. "Of course."

"Then you must be aware of the volcano eruption in Jasper."

"Who isn't? Fortunately, the people were evacuated."

"I wish that was the case… but no. Jasper wasn't destroyed by a volcano. It was attacked."

Astoria's frown increased. Ever since the Transformers had awakened on Earth after their four-million-year nap, terrorism pointed mostly to one source. "The Decepticons…"

The doors of the elevator opened. The sight outside was beautiful, but neither women noticed the greenhouse that stood regally beneath the sun.

Joy took Astoria by the arm and led her gently out of the elevator. "Everybody thought it was a volcano eruption. I was instructed to say so on my television show despite the fact that I hadn't been there to confirm it. The secrecy of the matter raised my suspicions, especially because earlier that day the Autobots were in Jasper to be honored by the city. I decided to investigate, so I drove right to the Ark. I was close to Mount Saint Hilary when I found a boy running through the desert. He was naked, hurt and in the middle of the worst nervous breakdown I have seen."

"It seems like a bad case of drug abuse… But why are you telling me this?"

Joy stopped walking and stood in front of Astoria. "He claimed to be the sole survivor of Jasper's massacre."

"Massacre?" Astoria's face betrayed her increasing confusion. "You mean that the Decepticons…?"

"No. It wasn't the Decepticons. According to this boy, the Autobots destroyed Jasper and took the few survivors to their base, where they were tortured and killed."

Due to the lack of time, Joy had chosen to be blunt, but the look on Astoria's face made her realize that a slower approach may have been a better choice. Still, for a moment the reporter believed that her mission would be successful. For a moment…

"This… is the most insane thing I've ever heard." Astoria shook her head. "Do you realize what you are saying?"

"Unfortunately I do, and believe me when I say that this is not only the biggest challenge of my career, but of my life. I don't know what happened, but somehow the Autobots turned evil. They destroyed an entire town!"

Astoria didn't seem convinced at all. "You don't have any proof of that."

"I have the word of my informant. That alone surpasses all the information I have collected over the last few days."

"I would like to ask some questions of that informant of yours. It seems to me that he needs a lot of help."

"Ask him, then. He's the teenager assisting my cameraman."

"That boy?"

"Yes, his name is Jack. His mother was used as a subject of experimentation and killed in the Ark."

Astoria stepped back, putting some distance between them. Joy realized that she was losing the girl. She had to play her other card.

"Did you hear about the battle in Portland's suburbs two days ago?"

"Let me guess. You're going to tell me that it was the Autobots again, right?"

"Believe it or not, I interviewed two witnesses that swore that the Decepticons saved their lives after the Autobots destroyed their homes."

Astoria's eyes shone. She was very beautiful, but rage didn't fit her. "Enough! I've had enough of this conversation! I'll tell you something before I kick you out, Miss Meadows. Telling people that the Autobots have turned evil would be like telling them that God doesn't exist! The Autobots are not only heroes, but they stand for the hope of billions of women, men and children on this planet. To make an affirmation like that you would need an immense amount of proof, which you don't have. In my opinion, the word of a drug addicted teen and that of some mentally disturbed people is not enough! You can't go around saying things like this. Do you realize the chaos you could cause?"

Joy smirked. "I find it funny that you mention God, Astoria, as it is common knowledge that you are agnostic."

That managed to calm the girl's outburst, but the anger in her eyes wouldn't go anywhere anytime soon.

"Sometimes people need to know that believing in something doesn't necessarily make it real. In the case of the Autobots, I can't state that they have all turned against us, but I have solid proof that at least some of them have. That's why I asked you about Powerglide."

"Powerglide would never do something like this. None of the Autobots would," Astoria said, shaking her head. "I don't care what you say. The only thing I'm certain of is that I'm listening to a mad woman, a woman that believes that a story is more important than the relationship between our world and a race of good, heroic robots. I am no fan of machines, Miss Meadows, but the Autobots are far more decent than most of the people I know, especially the people that create sick charades in order to get more ratings, no matter how much she steps on the public's beliefs—"

"Astoria, I'm very sorry to interrupt you. But did you schedule an aerial exhibition for your birthday?"

"Aerial exhibition? Of course not!"

"Then you may be interested in getting the hell out of here! We are in great danger if we stay in the open!" Joy screamed, taking Astoria's hand and dragging her toward the emergency stairs. By the time they reached the door, the engines of the combat jets in the sky were more than audible.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>I trust you remember the G1 episode in which this chapter is based, right? The title says it all :o) I remember being a little girl and finding quite bizarre how everybody roughed up Astoria so badly. I also found curious how the Decepticons, despite kidnapping her, were the only ones that didn't hit her.<em>

_As for Joy Meadows, she is a character from the Marvel comics. She was a very intrepid reporter and I thought she would be perfect for finding and protecting poor Jack._

_Remember I said something about a HUGE twist? Well, get ready because it will happen next chapter. Actually it was going to happen in this one, but it was turning to be a very long chapter and I decided to split it in two. It also worked better that way because next chapter will focus in other characters._

_Many thanks to iratepirate for beta reading. I would have made some nasty mistakes without her help._

_And many thanks for your reviews and support. Check my profile to see my next updates. Chapter 16 is almost done and will be posted really, really soon._


	16. Hunches

_Welcome to the last Darkest installment of the year. You may remember that I promised a big twist, so what a better way to finish the year than with a good ole cliffhanger?_

_Many thanks to iratepirate for beta reading and for her infinite patience with my mad worlds._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

**Hunches**

"_Rain drops keep falling on my head…"_

"_What do you mean, Ramjet? It's not raining."_

"_Hehehe. Ramjet is singing, Dirge."_

"_Is he..? Ramjet, but you _never _sing outside the washracks!"_

"_I do now. Ya like it?"_

"_Honestly, I can't tell song from roar in your case."_

"_Ah, really? And what would you say this is?"_

ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAMMMMM!

"_Idiot, you almost smashed me!"_

"_Doh. That was my intention."_

"_Yeah, I know that you love crashing us in midair, but I thought you wouldn't do it anymore."_

"_Why? 'Cos I'm _good _now?"_

"_It crossed my mind, yeah."_

"_Why don't you two stop bickering for a moment and enjoy the view?"_

"_And now you have turned into a nature lover, Thrust? Oh, how things have changed… How long has it been since we were the bad guys of the story?"_

"_Don't talk about changes, Dirge. Or do I need to remind you how _changed_ you were last night cycle?"_

"_Shut it."_

"_Thrust is right! I didn't know you were sooo romantic, buddy."_

"_Would you two moronic fragheads shut up? We don't know who could be monitoring this frequency!"_

"_Information, Dirge. This is our private frequency, private as in me, you and Thrust fragging like petro-rabbits in heat last night."_

"_You know, Ramjet, when you say it, it sounds so wrong."_

"_Heh. Ya think so, Thrust?"_

"_Okay, I'm done with you two. I don't know why I followed you on this insane crusade."_

"_Don't blame me. It was Thrust's idea to get Powerglide's pet. I just came because I wanted to crash stuff."_

"_Believe me, guys, I have a bad feeling about this. The Autobots have been turning against their pets. What do you think Powerglide will do to this human if we don't save her?"_

"_I see your point, but what makes you sure that the human will agree to come with us? We kidnapped her once, remember? And she gave me some of the worst short-circuits I've ever had!"_

"_Hahahaha, stop wasting your vocalizer, Dirge. Thrust only wants to get the girl because he wants to pair her with his human pet."_

"_Really? Are you playing matchmaker now, Thrust?"_

"_No! I mean, not entirely… Chip is still depressed because the termination of his proto-hatchers. I thought he could use some company."_

"_Right… See what I mean when I say you have turned into such a goody-goody?"_

"_Slag you, Ramjet… Wait, are you guys getting that?"_

"_You mean Dirge's spark beating for both of us? Yeah, I'm getting it. He will get some tonight. And you too, Thrust."_

"_I'm not joking, Ramjet. Check your radars."_

"_Yessir… What are we looking for, exactly? By the way, is this a good moment to remind you that _I'm_ the leader of our fraggin' trine?"_

"_Then you should pay attention to your radar more often. Aren't those Autobot energy signatures?"_

"_Uh… seems so."_

"_Who is it? Aerialbots?"_

"_Probably, but they have company… Powerglide! See what I told you? The fragged-up dwarf has come to retrieve that human!"_

"_Slag… remind me to believe you next time you have a bad feeling, Thrust."_

"_Hang on, Ramjet, let's not jump to conclusions. There are a zillion things those Autobots could be doing in this quadrant."_

"_Yeah, and I don't think protecting the innocent is one of them, Dirge."_

"_Hehe, are you guys ready for some action?"_

"_Right now, Ramjet? Can't you wait until the night cycle?"_

"_Idiot, there won't be any night cycle, not if we get slagged. Check your radars again. You too, Dirge."_

"_What the… The Autobots changed their course!"_

"_Yep, and guess where they are heading now? Or better yet, to whom?"_

"_Slag…"_

"_Yeah, that's a good way to put it. We are _so _slagged."_

* * *

><p>Skywarp was silent, the event so unusual that even he noticed it himself. It had been hard to release Daisy into the ocean, but Thundercracker was right. There was no way to feed her without killing fleshies, and Skywarp was done with killing fleshies. He was good now. He wanted to be good.<p>

That didn't mean he wasn't sad. Fortunately he was flying, and experience had taught him that things were better when flying – except when you received a missile right to the cockpit, that is…

"_Hey, TC,"_ he said through the comm-link when he noticed that Thundercracker seemed to be flying in a pattern.

"_What?"_

"_Are we going somewhere? I thought we were going to fly randomly."_

"_We are locating the Coneheads."_

"_Why? They are up to something, but they don't want us involved. You heard them."_

"_Nevertheless, I have a hunch."_

"_A _hunch_? And when did you start following hunches, let along having them?"_

Thundercracker didn't reply. Skywarp was very used to his best friend's silences, but that didn't mean they didn't annoy him. Words were really hard to get from the blue Seeker, but when he had his own agenda nothing in the universe would make him spill it.

Still, Skywarp broke the silence less than a breem later. Unlike Thundercracker, he was one who couldn't keep his issues to himself.

"_TC?"_

"_What now?"_

"_What's going to happen? After all this, I mean…"_ Skywarp didn't know much about his new programming, only that he was confused. Fortunately he always had Thundercracker to listen to his problems. _"Don't get me wrong. I like feeling the way I do, it's just..."_

Thundercracker didn't reply immediately, making Skywarp believe that he wasn't in the mood for giving his usual curt, but good, advice. Skywarp had almost forgotten he had spoken at all when Thundercracker's sober voice broke the static of their private frequency.

"_Change is not necessarily a bad thing, Skywarp. It reminds us of our origins and the things we valued during our early days."_

Skywarp laughed. _"You're kidding me, right? Do you remember when we were cadets at the Military Academy? All I could think about was getting laid and being Cybertron's top flier."_

"_Noble goals."_ Skywarp couldn't tell if Thundercracker was mocking him. _"You have a record that indicates that you fulfilled the first with honors, but what about the second?"_

"_I have some news for you, TC. There are plenty of good fliers to compete with!"_ Skywarp easily identified rancor, a familiar feeling he used to suffocate with pranks, interfacing and high grade. He was a Seeker and he was a teleporter, both qualities never mixed until his creation. Being Cybertron's top flier should have been an easy thing to achieve, but he had been bested by a certain arrogant slagger that had been kicked out of the Science Academy. _"Besides, Screamer already claimed the title. There's a reason he's the Air Commander and not us, and it's not just because he keeps Megatron's berth warm."_

The static brought a contemptuous snort from Thundercracker's side of the line. _"Starscream may be the fastest Seeker, but he doesn't have special abilities like us. You are a teleporter and I am able to release sonic booms that can shake an entire city. Now tell me, 'Warp, why is he the Air Commander instead of one of us?"_

That was a question that had haunted Skywarp's mind for ages, especially considering neither he nor Thundercracker were treacherous to Megatron, which was something Starscream had made a tradition of. In the end, Skywarp had learned to accept that he didn't have what it took; not the mind, not the cunning, not the malice, not the hypocrisy…

"_Because we were lazy,"_ Thundercracker continued before Skywarp could reply. _"We were conformists and accepted the order of things that was imposed upon us too quickly. You asked me what will happen now. I will tell you: things will happen exactly the way we want them to. I don't know about you, but I will stop letting others make decisions about my own life. It's all about freedom. After endless ages of war, it's finally in our reach."_

Skywarp took a moment to ponder his best friend's words. _"Sounds nice… I'd just like to know what decisions to make. Everything's so mixed up now."_

"_Don't break your head, 'Warp. Things will clear as time goes by, trust me. I too was very confused by our new programming in the beginning, but now I feel better than ever."_

"_Well, I envy you. And would you mind telling me what you are—?"_

"_Check your radar",_ Thundercracker interrupted.

Skywarp immediately detected the familiar energy signature. _"Oh, so there they are… You were right, TC. The Cone-afts are heading to that torus city Portland. What do you think they want there?"_

"_I don't know, but I have an idea of what they are about to find."_

"_What do you mean?"_ When he didn't get a response, Skywarp opened a channel that the Coneheads would surely pick up. _"Hey Ramjet, this is your daddy calling. Where the slag do you think you're going? Did Screamer authorize this? Hey, I'm talking to you, RJ!"_

Skywarp persisted twice more before returning to his private channel with Thundercracker. _"Conehead fraggers… Can you believe they are ignoring me?"_

"_Either that, or their frequency is being jammed."_

"_Jammed…?"_

"_It seems that the Coneheads are about to crash with more than they can chew. Check your radar again. Do you see some familiar energy signatures?"_

"_One, two, three… Frag! Six Autobot signals! And they are heading right for Ramjet's trine!"_

"_It seems so."_

"_Double frag! Aerialbots?"_

"_Most likely. And their companion must be Tracks or Powerglide."_

"_Uh… It doesn't seem good for the Coneheads. Should we call Screamer?"_

"_We don't need Starscream! We can handle this by ourselves."_

"_But we are outnumbered."_

"_Six to five, big deal. Besides, remember that the Aerialbots don't have our flying experience."_

Thundercracker had never been keen on rushing into battle, and Skywarp knew the reasons very well. Why, why was everything becoming more confusing by the minute?

"_TC…"_ Skywarp was more anxious than ever. Generally he was eager to shoot Autobot aft plates, but this time the excitement was replaced by something that he could only identify as a bad omen.

"_I have a visual,"_ Thundercracker said curtly. _"Cover me and activate combat maneuver 115-Dx. I'll intercept them."_

"_But what—"_ Skywarp couldn't finish as he literally ate Thundercracker's steam. Now that was annoying. Skywarp was the teleporter; he should be the first line of attack. Technically, Thundercracker was Starscream's second-in-command and could give the orders in Screamer's absence, but there was something different this time that Skywarp couldn't pinpoint.

Still, he programmed his trans-warp coordinates in preparation to save Thundercracker from his insane hunch. He also thought about comming Starscream to brief him about the situation, but he decided to wait. He was very curious to see what his best friend had in mind.

* * *

><p>"<em>A little too far away from the Ark. Are you taking the destroying-another-city panoramic route?"<em> Six comm-links jolted in unison as the invading frequency made itself heard. _"You did quite a number on Jasper."_

"_The frag…?"_ Slingshot said. _"Decepticon!"_

The first shot was easily dodged by a blue and silver Seeker, his fuselage shining under the sun. _"What was that? _Aggression?_ I thought it was supposed to be exclusive to Decepticons. You will hear from my lawyers."_

Slingshot fired again, this time imitated by Air Raid. A rain of neutron bullets grazed Thundercracker's wing, but he kept flying dangerously close to the Autobot formation.

"_Hold your fire!"_ Silverbolt ordered. _"State your purpose, Thundercracker, and be aware that we will use deadly force if I consider it proper."_

Thundercracker laughed, a very unique sound because he rarely did it. _"Was that a threat, Silverbolt? It sounds really bizarre in your voice."_

"_Well, _your_ voice sounds twice as bizarre simply because I think this is the first time I've heard it,"_ Air Raid said, trying to position himself behind Thundercracker, but the Decepticon didn't allow it.

"_I repeat, what's with the aggression?"_ Despite his evasive maneuver, Thundercracker's flying pattern seemed rather casual. _"Is this the way you address a fellow flier? What happened to your _heroic_ code of honor?"_

"_It went right into the pit, that's what happened. Didn't you hear Silverbolt, Deceptiscum? State what you want once and for all!"_

Once again, Thundercracker avoided the pack of neutron bullets that Slingshot shot at him. The fact that the Aerialbot had disobeyed the order of his leader to hold fire didn't go unnoticed by the Seeker.

"_I was just curious to see how the massive reprogramming had affected you. And you've already satisfied my curiosity, thank you very much."_

"_Well, if that was all you wanted…"_ Slingshot's cannons started to hum, but the attack that Thundercracker dodged came from above.

"_Frag! You won't be so lucky next time!"_ Powerglide cried.

"_About time you made your move, scraplet,"_ Thundercracker said, showing off his recently discovered laugh.

"_Who the slag are you calling scraplet?"_

Thundercracker's maneuver was a blurry spot against the sun, but this time Powerglide's attack found a fuselage. His cry of victory was followed by a howl of pain.

"_One down, five to go,"_ Thundercracker said calmly as Fireflight headed down with one wing smoking. _"I have to say it, Autobots, if taking down your own wingmen is what your glitched processors were reprogrammed to do, your war is more than lost."_

"_Fireflight!"_ Silverbolt cried, hesitating when his nosecone made an abrupt twist downwards.

"_Still afraid of heights, I see."_ Thundercracker almost crashed into Silverbolt in midair, making the Aerialbot completely lose his balance. _"How dare you command a team of fliers if you can't stand your element? Shame on you!"_

"_Aerialbots, let's show this Decepticon scum how we will silence his brand new loud mouth!"_ Skydive cried, having no problem in disregarding his leader's previous order. _"Destroy him!"_

"_Skywarp!"_ Thundercracker made his own war cry, leaving Skydive to the just teleported black Seeker and heading directly toward Silverbolt, who had already stabilized his equilibrium. _"Now it's you against me, phony!"_

Silverbolt transformed into bipedal mode and managed to contain Thundercracker's onslaught by embracing his nosecone. The sky turned upside down as the blue Seeker did a 180 degree turn at top speed, but Silverbolt didn't lose his grip.

"_Ha… have you gone mad, Decepticon?"_ Silverbolt tried to materialize his electrostatic discharge rifle, but Thundercracker's frantic flight pattern forced him to keep hold of the Seeker.

"_That's a question you should ask yourself."_ Thundercracker rolled to his right. _"Destroying an entire colony of fleshlings just because you can? That's not the kind of behavior expected from an honorable aerial fighter. If you were a real leader, you'd know that slaughter is not the way to conquest."_

"_Look who's talking! How many of these insects have you murdered yourself?"_

"_Hey, Silverbolt, need a wing?"_ Air Raid said, approaching from beneath.

"_I fight my own battles!"_ was the angry response. _"Go assist Fireflight!"_

"_To the pit with Fireflight! I wanna slag Decepticon nosecone!"_

"_I said go and assist Fireflight!"_

Thundercracker laughed. _"I would say that your need to assert your authority over your subordinates. Was Optimus Prime overcharged when he appointed you Air Commander?"_

"_I'm no Air Commander. I'm the leader of the Aerialbots!"_ Silverbolt punched Thundercracker's nosecone with all his strength, denting him and managing to destabilize him.

"_I wouldn't do that if I were you. Look how high we are."_

Silverbolt's optics jerked violently as he looked downward, panic making his gyros lose their balance. Getting rid of the Aerialbot leader's embrace seemed an easy task now, but a laser beam coming from behind did the job for Thundercracker.

"_Playing hero, Thundercracker? How infrequent of you."_ Dirge said as Silverbolt went down.

Thundercracker rose up and met his fellow Seeker. _"I wouldn't have minded if you showed up a bit earlier, Dirge, but it's nice that you're growing your vocabulary."_

"_And there he goes, the ungrateful one. Some things never change."_

"_You would be surprised about that."_

Both Decepticons veered and headed to the aerial battle below, where Ramjet, Thrust and Skywarp were engaging the remaining Aerialbots.

"_And what's with this, anyway?"_ Dirge said. _"Skywarp said that somehow you started this fight."_

"_I didn't fire the first shot. Besides, the Aerialbots were heading right for your formation. I decided to intercept them first. What were you saying about ungratefulness, Dirge?"_

"_We were not on a combat mission. You should have asked Starscream about this. He said we should avoid confrontations with the enemy until further notice."_

"_Starscream, once again Starscream! Can't you geeks even lubricate your valves without his permission?"_

Dirge's silence said more about his confusion than any words. After thousands of vorns of not hearing anything but growls and curt words from Thundercracker, now he seemed to have discovered his rebellious vocalizer.

Rebellious, and authoritarian vocalizer. _"You and your team maintain triangle formation and stay away from my plating. I'll handle this."_

"_And who in the pit named you Air Commander, Thundercraphead? You can't order us around!"_

"_Just do as I say! And don't worry. You'll be taking your orders from Starscream again very soon." _

After saying that, Thundercracker shut down his communicator and took a different flight pattern than the formation he had ordered. Obviously he had his own agenda, and his own target.

* * *

><p>He found Silverbolt back in alt mode, doing his best to regain altitude and assist the teammates he was supposed to command. It would be an easy kill for Thundercracker, but he didn't take it because shooting an enemy while he was disadvantaged would never be his style, no matter if he was to be reformatted a million times.<p>

It satisfied him that Silverbolt attacked him as soon as he saw him. The Aerialbot Commander was acknowledging him as the Seeker leader, the feeling emblazoning the flame that Thundercracker had ignited the moment his new programming had taken over.

He ignored the other Aerialbots, confident that Skywarp and the Coneheads would contain them. His enemies may still have had a lot to learn concerning combat techniques, but Thundercracker had to give them credit. They had skills and they had courage – even the damaged Fireflight had returned to join the fray. They just lacked of good leadership.

There was no honor in facing a rival as inferior as Silverbolt; he was strong and resistant, but his fear of heights affected his flying skills considerably. But Thundercracker was a practical warrior, one that did his job despite the complaints from his ethics. He would always have time to feel bad later.

He smirked to himself. _Well, that is one thing that is about to change._

He fired two missiles, decided to finish the battle before things got out of his control. Silverbolt, already back to his alt mode, destroyed the first one whilst the second grazed his right plating.

"_You missed!"_ he said, heading towards Thundercracker with his cannons humming.

_That's what you think. _Thundercracker accepted the challenge and faced Silverbolt nosecone-first. He was welcomed by a rain of laser fire, both from Silverbolt and Powerglide.

Despite being hit once, Thundercracker couldn't have been more satisfied. Maybe he wasn't the fastest Seeker in the Decepticon armada, but he would prove that day that he was the best. There was a reason why he was part of the Elite Trine, and it definitely wasn't because of his longtime doubts about the cause.

Doubts that had suddenly dissipated like fog.

He felt almost divine, a perfect machine of both beauty and destruction, as he flew toward the heart of the battle. He was hit again, but he didn't care. He was beyond pain and defeat, his vision clearer than the sky above his cockpit.

A distant explosion said that his second missile had found its target. An entire wing of the Hybrid Technologies building was on fire. Once again, his calculations had been perfect when targeting the most isolated side of the facility. Most likely no humans had been terminated in the explosion.

Obviously, not everyone was aware of that information.

"_You slaggin' idiot!"_ the cry came from above, along with laser fire.

As predicted, Powerglide was furious because of the attack on his human pet's headquarters. Thundercracker was not surprised; despite Powerglide's change of programming and the probable reroute of his feelings concerning the human, his reaction was expected. Psychotics always overvalued their possessions and could become obsessive about them; long vorns of living amongst such mechs had taught Thundercracker that.

He dodged the attack, almost making the enraged Autobot and Silverbolt crash, and opened his private frequency. The action had the unique taste of that of a last time.

"'_Warp, evasion maneuver P84-D."_

There was a hiss of static on the other side, one that Thundercracker could only qualify as confused. _"What the… NOW? Have you gone suicidal?"_

"_Just do it, or you'll get caught in the middle!"_

"_TC, don't be a fraggin' hero!"_

He released the strongest sonic boom he had ever produced, guided by conviction instead of duty. He saw both allies and enemies alike being impacted by the destructive waves of his attack, but he only had one robot in sight.

It was always more satisfying to face a worthy rival, so Thundercracker was pleased when Silverbolt stood the first wave of the attack and kept a steadier flight course than anyone else around.

"_TC! Are you mad?!" _his comm-link came back to life with Skywarp's voice. _"You almost brought me down!"_

"_I told you to retreat. Now retrieve the wounded and get back to the base,"_ Thundercracker said coldly. _"And good luck, 'Warp. It was an honor flying beside you."_

Then he shut down all communications and faced his destiny. There was no turning back, nothing but death or success in his way. Whatever happened that day, he would make sure to make his point clear.

Just as Silverbolt did, Thundercracker transformed in midair and pounced at his enemy, both locked in an embrace that promised fatality. The Aerialbot was stronger, but he was also hurt and tired. Thundercracker was damaged too, but unlike his enemy, fear wasn't clouding his thoughts, only pure, naked determination.

Pain ran through every one of his circuits when Silverbolt tightened his deadly embrace on Thundercracker's waist, but the Decepticon was ready. He raised his arm and shot point blank at his enemy's shoulder, mutilating his arm.

Silverbolt cried in pain, facing the mouth of his enemy's canon point blank in the face.

"Just shoot," the Aerialbot growled, defeated.

Thundercracker smirked. "And behead the most powerful Gestalt in Cybertronian history? Not today." Then he kicked Silverbolt away from him and took the shot he had intended from the beginning. His aim was perfect and his target was hit.

His _real _target.

Powerglide's midsection was trespassed cleanly, one astro-klick before he released his own attack on a supposedly distracted enemy.

He fell on the roof of the Hybrid Technologies building. Thundercracker landed beside him, indifferent to the two human females crying something in their language. Still, he recognized one of them as Powerglide's human. The other one was trying to drag her away.

That was all the attention he gave to both insects. Powerglide was badly hurt, but his injuries appeared to be only structural.

Thundercracker pointed at his head.

"Sla… ggin' Decepticon filth…"

Thundercracker smirked. "Nice selection for last words. Such a shame they won't be memorable."

"W… wait…" The fear in Powerglide's optics was highly satisfying. "You can't do this… You're… you're supposed to be…"

"What? _Good _now?" Thundercracker laughed. "News flash, you geek. I _am _good. I always was. The best!"

Powerglide's optics became panicked, looking frantically upwards toward help that wouldn't come.

"Such a pathetic self-appointed leader you turned out to be," Thundercracker spat. "It's true that the Aerialbots lack of a capable leading hand, but a clown like you could never do the job."

His arm-mounted rifle clicked. "Nothing personal, Powerglide. I really dislike the execution style, but you are an obstacle standing in my way."

Powerglide looked to his right, his optics stretching in a mixture of realization and panic.

"_ASTORIA!"_

Thundercracker fired.

Red fragments that once had been a head flew in all directions after the explosion, the sound shadowing the high-pitched, organic cry that followed.

At least Powerglide's last word would be memorable to someone.

* * *

><p>Optimus Prime didn't look at the mangled frame of Silverbolt that was thrown roughly at his feet. He didn't look to the guns that his Autobots raised towards the figure standing at the entrance of the Ark either.<p>

He only looked at the proud, powerful air warrior that looked straight at him.

"You are going to need a lot of help if you want to make your aerial forces respectable."

Time seemed to freeze as Optimus Prime remained silent. He was a perfect statue of hardness and calculations.

Then he started to laugh, a sinister sound that reverberated through the rock walls.

And Optimus Prime kept laughing. He laughed between the gaping faces of his men, he laughed when four hurt Aerialbots landed with their pride between their tailpipes, and he laughed when he realized that victory was finally in his reach.

"Lower your weapons, Autobots, and salute your Air Commander."

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>You may remember that Astoria's necklace made electric circuits malfunction, so the Decepticons had a bad time when kidnapping her.<em>

_As for the twist… Ta-da! I hope you liked it. Kudos to those of you who guessed that something was going on with Thundercracker; after all, he always had a little Autobot inside his spark. Now that Optimus Prime named him Air Commander, things will get really interesting._

_Thank you for reading. Please let me know if you enjoyed the twist and stay tuned for the updates. In the meantime, have a wonderful Christmas :o)_


	17. Checkerboard

_PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THIS CHAPTER TILL THE VERY END – INCLUDING FINAL NOTES._

_This is not beta read and was written in a hurry, so please disregard any grammar mistakes you may find._

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

**Checkerboard**

"Check."

"Mm?"

"Check. Checkmate!"

Primus growled and lowered his titan.

Unicron laughed. "_And_ you lose again, old friend."

"Only because you cheated," Primus said, getting up from his planet and starting to open his hemisphere-wide chest plates.

"Wait, not yet." Unicron wasn't in a hurry to claim his prize. "I thought you would be interested in talking about the consequences of our game."

Primus shrugged his shoulders. "What's it to talk about? We rotated the table, those idiots fragged everything up _again… _End of the story."

"So that's it? Your beloved Optimus Prime turns into an evil spawn of a glitch and destroys everything the Autobots have fought for, and you don't give a frag?"

"Ha! Don't you dare mentioning Optimus Prime, because you don't want me to start with _your_ Megatron! What was that 'protect the humans' slag? As for our bet, you won, right? But if you don't want to frag me, that's okay with me."

Unicron seemed hurt, so much that he didn't finish eating the planet he had been chewing during the entire game.

Primus sighed, hating himself for always being the good one. "Just remind me why the heck we created the Transformers in the first place."

"We wanted an army of devoted fangirls."

"Which curiously don't give slag about us and only worships those ungrateful sons of mine… argh!"

"Would you stop complaining? At least you're not the one who always end up destroyed by the fragging Matrix!"

"Maybe that wouldn't happen if you stopped eating planets."

Now it was Unicron who growled. Once again, Primus hated himself for being so soft-sparked.

"Okay, okay… let's forget about those Transformers glitches for a while and let's focus in a certain bet we made, uh?"

"Heh." Unicron smirked and allowed Primus to take him into his arms. "This reminds me of the time we sparked Megatron and Optimus Prime… Do you think they ever knew they were brothers?"

"Who cares?"

**The end**

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><p><strong>¡Inocente palomita que te dejaste engañar!<strong>

_Okay, right now you must be thinking that I'm drunk or on heavy drugs. But nope, I'm just making you guys a little prank because today is December 28, Innocents' Day, and it's a tradition in Hispanic countries to make jokes. And because I'm Mexican, I thought it would be a good idea to give you a little dose of what-the-frag material. Sorry that I uploaded this at the end of the day, though. I wasn't home all day and I couldn't do it in the morning :oP It's almost midnight in México, but what the heck, it's still December 28!_

_I guess it's not necessary to say that this awful, and indeed very wtf chapter is not part of the story whatsoever. It's just a simple prank and it will be erased in exactly one week._

_Thank you for your attention and feel free to throw rotten tomatoes or eggs at my door. I'll continue with my regular fics next week. For those of you who are interested, updates for 'Non-pacific resistance', 'The Left Leg' and 'Once a Decepticon' are on the way._

UPDATE: I don't know what happened, but the chapter was erased, so I'm uploading it again.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!


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